


Since You’ve Been Mine

by ScribbleWiggy



Series: The 'It Gets Worse!' Universe (Earth-293156) [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), College, F/M, Ned Harry & Peter live together, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Prequel, Slow Burn, but i felt bad about not including him so, more to come - Freeform, pre-Harry & Cheri friendship, seriously the burn is like two years long, tony’s only there for a second
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2020-10-12 07:23:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 51
Words: 118,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20560448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribbleWiggy/pseuds/ScribbleWiggy
Summary: Everything needs a prequel, even the story within the story about a D&D campaign.





	1. October 12th, 2020

**Author's Note:**

> Canonically takes place in the same universe as ‘It Gets Worse!’. You do not have to have read ‘It Gets Worse!’ to read (and enjoy!) this story.

Peter watched Harry stick a paper birthday hat onto his head, snapping the elastic string beneath his chin, and wincing when it hit him harder than he expected. Peter had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from bursting into laughter. Ned didn’t even bother trying. 

“You _ moron,” _ his other friend exclaimed through guffaws. 

“Shut up, it’s my birthday,” Harry said, hotly, and turned to look at Peter. “Tell him to stop laughing at me.”

“Who am I, his mother?” Peter retorted, but all the same he reached over and lightly slapped the back of Ned’s head. “Stop it, it’s his birthday, he’s allowed to make a fool of himself without us laughing at him.” 

“But we can laugh at him tomorrow, right?” Ned asked, wiping tears from his eyes. 

“Yes, duh,” Peter agreed with a grin.

“You guys are shit heads,” Harry grumbled. “Are we going to actually have fun today?” 

“I mean, you’re the one who said he wanted to go _ bowling,” _ Peter said, spreading his arms and gesturing around their location. They were currently shoved into the last lane of the decrepit bowling alley that Ned had found the address of online. Peter was honestly amazed that it was still open, considering it hadn’t upgraded to the virtual version of the game that many other alleys had elected to invest in. As such, the place was pretty much empty, aside from a group of dad-aged fellows three lanes down, who were yelling loudly with each strike, and drinking beer. 

“Listen, I’m 20,” Harry said. “I haven’t bowled since I was… what, _ seven? _ I wanted to give it a shot.”

“Harry, you have close to zero hand-eye coordination,” Ned reminded him. 

“Why is it that whenever one of us has a birthday, it suddenly becomes necessary to make fun of that guy?” Harry demanded. 

“Shouldn’t we get the game started?” Peter asked, standing and moving to input their names into the keyboard connected to the TV that would display their scores. “Do we want to make up fake names, or just use normal ones?” 

“Well, hold on, we’re not all here yet,” Harry said, and Peter blinked at the keyboard, before slowly turning to look at his friend. Ned was also studying him in confusion. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked. “You don’t have any other friends.”

“Fuck you, yes I do,” Harry said, scowling. “I thought I told you about her. Her name is Cheri; I went to school with her, and she started at ESU this year. I asked if she wanted to go bowling, and she said no at first, but then I reminded her that it was my birthday, and she agreed, but only if she didn’t have to get me a present.”

“So, what, we’re supposed to sit here until she shows up?” Peter asked, frowning a little. 

“She should be here soon,” Harry said, frowning back. “She lives with her mom, in Brooklyn.”

“Oh, she’s from _ Brooklyn!” _ Peter exclaimed, throwing up his hands and turning back to the keyboard to start putting their names up anyway. 

“No, actually,” a voice said, and he paused as the sound of it made an immediate, disarming impact on his hearing, which he’d thought he’d had a handle on, after having to deal with the loud dads. He turned, and blinked at the newcomer, who stood on the carpeted floor a step up from the wooden one that started the lane itself. 

The young woman looked to be of Hispanic descent, with her light brown skin and dark hair and eyes, along with the slight accent that tinged the edge of her voice, indicating a childhood usage of Spanish. There was a spattering of freckles across her nose. Her hair was curly, and pushed back out of her face by a red bandana that matched the sweater she wore with a pair of black jeans. One of her eyebrows was cocked, and she was holding a bowling ball in one hand. 

“I’m from Washington Heights,” she continued, walking forward and setting her ball down next to the ones that the three boys had already chosen for themselves. She had to brush past Peter in order to do so, and then she walked over to Harry, sitting down in the seat next to the one he occupied. “You didn’t tell me your friends were from Queens,” she said. 

“Hey -” Peter started, but was unable to finish by the fact that Ned quickly spoke up before he could. 

“Hi, sorry, he’s an ass,” he said, and Peter shot him a look. Ned ignored him, and leaned across the space between the two sets of chairs, holding out his hand. “Ned Leeds.” 

“Cheryl Schultz,” the girl, _ Cheri, _ replied, shaking his hand. She looked at Peter expectantly. “I guess that makes you Peter Parker.”

“I told you he was the worse one,” Harry said, and Peter shifted his scowl over to him instead. However, Cheri laughed, and the look immediately faded from his face without him meaning it to as the sound touched his ears, and embedded itself into his soul. 

_ Hell, _ he thought, blinking a little. _ What the fuck was _that?

“We probably just got off on the wrong foot,” Cheri said. She held her hand out to Peter, who remembered to take it, through some magical interference in his mind, which was currently replaying the sound of her laugh on repeat. “Queens isn’t so bad.”

“No, neither is Brooklyn,” Peter replied, pulling his hand away so that the electricity he felt shooting up his arm into his core would stop. To his dismay, it did not. “I actually have a good friend from there.”

“Still not from Brooklyn,” Cheri said, and Peter quickly nodded. 

“Right, yeah, no, I know, but I don’t - I’ve never met anyone else from Washington Heights, so I don’t… don’t really have an opinion on that, and I was… trying to be cool.” The sentence trailed off pathetically, at the end, and Peter winced. “Maybe I’ll just stop talking, now.”

“It’s all right, Harry said you might do this,” Cheri told him, and Peter blinked several times, looking at Harry in confusion. 

“He did?”

“I did?” Harry repeated, staring at Cheri. 

“Yep, don’t you remember?” Cheri asked him, her eyes still on Peter, who desperately wanted her to look away before the blush that he could feel growing on his neck made itself visible to everyone. From the way that Ned was shifting in his seat, barely suppressed laughter coming from him, he guessed that his friend had already spotted it, however. “You told me that he sometimes rambles around girls he thinks are cute.”

Peter’s jaw fell open, and he thought he heard Ned’s crack as it did the same, his snickers drying up, much like Peter’s saliva just had. Cheri merely smiled, and Peter was floored to see that she had dimples in both her cheeks. _ Hell, hell, hell. _

“I… we can say that I said that, sure,” Harry said, “you absolute narcissist.” 

Cheri shrugged casually, leaning back in the seat she’d chosen for herself. “I know I’m hot,” she said. “No use pretending I’m not.” She looked up at the screen. “Are we bowling tonight or not, because I didn’t pay five dollars for these -” She gestured to the bowling shoes that she had on. “- for no reason.”

“Yeah, we’ll bowl,” Harry said. He gestured towards the keyboard. “Peter?” 

“Right, that’s - I was doing that,” Peter managed, turning back to the device. “Uh… what? Real names?” 

“Mm, no, let’s do something more creative,” Ned said. “What’s your major, Cheri?” 

“Music education,” Cheri replied, and Peter sucked in a breath. _ Of _ course _ it had to be music. And she wants to be a _ teacher. _ Help me. _

“That’s cool,” Ned said. “Let’s come up with names that’re related to our majors, then.”

“Well, Cheri’s not a music education major only because she cares about the future generations nurturing a love for music,” Harry said. “She happens to be a music _ goddess.” _

“Harry,” Cheri said, exasperated. 

“What, it’s true! You have perfect pitch, you’ve been playing the piano since before you could walk, and you can sing. Plus the amount of knowledge you have about, like, bands and artists and stuff?” Harry shook his head. “She writes, and performs, and is just… it’s insane.”

Cheri sighed, but she did not say anything to argue with Harry’s description of her abilities. “Uh… I mean.” She let out a soft noise that might have been a laugh. “It’s… I don’t like to brag about _ that, _ but.”

“But it’s true,” Peter finished for her, without turning around. “Okay. Ned can be Tech-No.”

“Y’know what, I’ll allow that,” Ned said. “It’s pretty cool.”

“Harry, you can be… Dr. Eco.”

Harry contemplated it. “I mean… kind of lame, but like… there’s no lie there, so.”

“What should mine be?” Peter asked.

“Biohazard,” Ned said helpfully. 

“Haha, thanks,” Peter said with a snort, but typed it in anyway. “And for the musical prodigy…” Peter typed in the only bit of knowledge of music he had, with a twist that he thought might make it the tiniest bit clever. 

“Trouble Clef,” Cheri said, reading it once it hit the screen. Peter glanced at her, saw she was smiling again, her dimples an annoyingly distracting (but adorable) presence in her cheeks. “That’s great. Thanks, Pete.”

“Pete,” Harry said, nudging her with his elbow as Peter sat down next to Ned, trying hard not to show just how much his stomach had flipped, hearing her use the nickname. “Already feeling friendly, huh?” 

“Well, he thinks I’m cute, so.” Cheri looked at Peter, offered him a grin and a wink. At least, he was pretty sure she winked, but with the chemical malfunctions occurring all over his body, it could have been safe to assume that he’d only imagined it. 

“Do we all have to wear the stupid hats?” Cheri continued, grinning at the one Harry had on, and he huffed, standing and moving up to the lane to take his first turn. 

“See, I _ said _ it was stupid,” Ned said, leaning forward again, “but Harry insisted, because it’s _ his _ birthday, and a person only turns 20 _ once.” _

“Yeah, apparently when you turn 20, you have to relive your second birthday,” Peter put in, without really thinking about it, and was surprised when Cheri laughed again. His senses reacted cheerfully to the sound, which he _ hated. _

“Screw you guys,” Harry said over his shoulder, and gave the bowling ball he’d chosen a toss. It rolled slowly down the lane, curving about halfway and slipping into the gutter. The other three clapped politely for him, like they were at a game of golf instead, and he’d just gotten the ball in the hole. “I guess it’s fine if you make fun of me in order to get along,” Harry said, walking over to retrieve his ball as the returner spat it up thirty seconds later. 

“Mm, good, because it might be the only way,” Ned said, looking between Cheri and Peter. “These two… yeesh.”

“Damn, and I thought I was doing a great job disguising how much I dislike you,” Cheri said to Peter, snapping her fingers. “With the false confidence, and laughing at your bad jokes…”

“I know, you almost had _ me _ fooled!” Peter said, shaking his head regretfully. “Shame.”

Their eyes met, and after a moment, they both burst into laughter, unable to keep the act up. Ned looked between the two of them, befuddled, and glanced past them at Harry, who lifted his shoulders in mirrored confusion, before picking his ball up again. 

Peter looked at Cheri for a moment, as she watched Harry throw his second ball. He decided that maybe she wasn’t so bad, that maybe they could get along. After all, it was clear they shared a sense of humor, at least on some level. 

He moved across the lane, to take up the chair next to hers. “Sorry,” he said once she’d turned to him. “About earlier.”

“Me too,” Cheri responded. “I’m really bad at meeting new people. I’ve known Harry since elementary school, and he’s always been able to make friends with everybody.” She smiled. “I think I like you guys, though. Can’t say that about everyone he introduces me to.”

“Yeah, I’m not so hot at the social aspects of life, either,” Peter admitted. “I’ve known Ned since we were kids, and Harry… well, it’s like you said, he can make friends with anybody.” He gestured. “So, you started at ESU this year? How do you like it so far?” 

“It’s pretty cool,” Cheri said. “I got in on a tuition-based scholarship, but I still live with my mom because I couldn’t afford to live in the city. I have a car, which is nice, but gas is so expensive, now.”

“You still drive a car that uses _ gas?” _ Peter asked incredulously. 

“Do you even _ drive?” _ Cheri retorted, easily, and Peter leaned back a little, beat. 

“Touchè. I do have a license, though.”

“Well, that’s something, at least,” Cheri said with a smirk. “Anyway, I’m not actually so full of myself, I just don’t know how to act around people, so over-the-top, asshole-level narcissism is usually my go to.” 

“Better than my self-deprecating sense of humor,” Peter said with a shrug. They were both silent for a moment. 

“I guess they’re both pretty bad,” Cheri finally said. 

“Yeah, neither of us should ever be in public,” Peter agreed. They shared a grin, and Peter’s entire being felt as though it were lit up from the inside by a lightbulb. But, like, one that belonged in a lighthouse.

“Hey, friends?” They turned towards Ned, who gestured towards the lane. “It’s your turn, Peter.” 

“Oh, right,” Peter said, and he stood, retrieving his bowling ball. He stopped at the end of the lane, and considered for a moment, before pulling his arm back and then swinging it forward, releasing the ball as it went. The ball rolled straight down the middle of the lane, and crashed into the center pin, before knocking down all the others as well. The TV screen flashed a very strange pixelated clip of a unicorn sliding down a rainbow, the word STRIKE! gleaming at the bottom. 

“Wow, show-off!” Ned exclaimed, throwing up his hands. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Peter said, smiling. “I forgot to mention that I’m kick-ass at bowling.” 

Cheri laughed, and Peter’s smile grew. Yeah, all right, so maybe the sensation wasn’t so bad, the all-encompassing happiness that came with hearing the sound. He could probably get used to it. 

The night continued similarly. Peter turned out to be the only one who was actually good at bowling, which meant he led the game all night long, but that didn’t seem to bother any of the others. The bowling alley provided them with pizza and wings. Harry tried to get them to bring a pitcher of beer, too, but apparently the possibility of that had gone out the window while they were all making fun of him for being twenty and wanting to go bowling. As such, Harry blamed Ned and Peter, which was fine because it technically _ was _ their fault. 

All the while, whenever neither of them were up bowling, Peter and Cheri got to know one another a bit better. Whenever he sat back down, Peter found Cheri talking to Ned, too. Apparently, the two of them had quite a bit in common, because whenever he cam3 back from taking his turn, they were talking about something different. 

Peter and Cheri’s discussions, which spanned over the course of both Harry and Ned’s turns, followed a more linear path. 

“My mom raised me on her own,” Cheri told Ned and Peter, while Harry was up for his fourth round. “We lived with her parents in Washington Heights until I was eight, and then she moved us to Brooklyn.” She paused. “I don’t really know why, though, considering she works at Oscorp, which is here in Manhattan.” 

“So, where’s your family actually from?” Ned asked, and Peter almost wanted to hit him, since that wasn’t really the _ nicest _ way to ask that question. 

Cheri merely smiled. “I’ll give you two guesses, and one hint: Caribbean.”

Peter and Ned exchanged a look. After a moment, Ned turned back to her. “Dominican?” 

“Nope, but good try,” Cheri said, and she glanced at Peter. He studied her for a second. 

“Puerto Rican?” 

“Ah, you got it!” Cheri said, clapping her hands together and smiling. “Nice job.”

“And that’s it, huh?” 

She nodded. “My grandfather’s parents immigrated in the forties, and my grandmother’s father brought her and her brother in the fifties, after her mother died.”

“Wow,” Ned said. “That’s not even that long ago, really.”

“I know, pretty crazy, isn’t it?” Cheri asked, smiling. Harry returned from his fourth set of two-gutter balls, and Ned went to take his turn. “Like I was saying, I was eight when we moved to Brooklyn, and I met Harry during fourth grade. One of the other fifth graders tripped me, at lunch, and Harry punched him in the stomach.”

“What, _ really?” _ Peter asked, amazed, turning to look at his friend. Harry lifted his shoulders. 

“I was used to getting picked on, because of how sick I always was,” he explained, “so I knew how to stand up for myself.” He glanced at Cheri, smiling. “Sharp wit doesn’t really work when coming to the defense of a lady, though.”

“Yes, because eight-year-old me was so impressed by the fact that you punched a kid in the stomach,” Cheri said with a roll of her eyes. “I would’ve appreciated it more if you’d gone to the office and gotten me a change of clothes that didn’t have mashed potatoes and gravy all over them.”

“What was that kid’s name?” Harry asked, and Cheri shrugged. 

“No idea. Something generic, probably.” She looked at Peter again. “That wasn’t the only time he punched someone for me, but it was the only time that it didn’t end in him also getting punched. Or kicked. Or beat almost to unrecognition.” 

“Yikes,” Peter said, frowning. It shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did to learn about this part of Harry’s life. 

“Yeah, I should probably be dead,” Harry agreed, “but I mean… the kids were shit heads, calling her derogatory names and stuff, and I couldn’t - she was my friend. I wasn’t just going to let them do that.

“Should we tell him about the worst one?” Cheri asked, and Harry made a face. 

“I mean, you just met him thirty minutes ago. I dunno if you wanna tell him about the Bad Thing just yet.”

Cheri examined Peter for a moment. “You’re right,” she said. “I gotta find out if I can trust him first.” She smiled a little, her dimples making themselves known once more. The expression was quickly becoming one of Peter’s favorite things. “I’m sure that won’t take long, though.”

Ned sat back down, and Peter bowled another perfect round. He turned to retake his seat, and found Cheri already standing behind him, waiting to go. She gestured. “I don’t even see the point, really,” she admitted, “since it’s only the fourth round and you’re already kicking our butts.”

“It’s more for the fun, right?” Peter suggested, and Cheri smirked. 

“Yeah, I guess we can go with that,” she said, moving past him to take her turn. When she managed to knock down two pins, she turned to look at him, dark brown eyes twinkling. “But, for future reference? I’m very competitive.”

Peter grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Sitting together, sharing a plate between them, Ned and Harry watched as Peter gave Cheri a few tips on how to throw her ball. After a moment, Harry leaned over to Ned and said, “I bet they start dating within six months.”

Ned snorted. “Clearly you don’t know Peter,” he said. “That boy is going to stall and stall. Two years, tops.”

“Oh, God, but can we handle the obvious tension for _ two years?” _ Harry asked, leaning his head back with a dramatic sigh. 

“You know the rule with bets: no individual interference,” Ned said. “Two years.”

“Fine. But can I change mine to a year and a half?” Ned considered it for a moment, and Harry said, “I let you change the one you made about how long it’d take for Peter to agree to move in with us.”

“Mm, you did do that,” Ned agreed, and then he nodded. “All right, deal. Closest without going over wins the pool.” 

“Exact dates?”

“Mhm.”

“Uhm… okay, March 15th, 2022.” 

“Why March 15th?”

“Cheri’s birthday.”

“Ah.” Ned tilted his head, examining the two of them for a moment. Cheri still had yet to actually throw the ball, and Peter didn’t really seem to mind that she was hanging onto it, listening to whatever advice he was giving her with an amused expression. “I guess I’ll go with… August 10th, then.”

“Ah, _ Peter’s _ birthday?” Harry asked, annoyed, and Ned made a kissy face back at him. “All right, _ fine. _ Cheater.” He held out his hand, and Ned shook it with a grin. “No going over.”

“No going over,” Ned repeated. _ “Price Is Right _rules.” He looked back at Cheri and Peter, watched as Cheri finally threw the bowling ball. It crashed into the eight pins that had been left standing by her first throw, and she turned around, eyes bright.

“I can’t believe that actually worked!” she said, and Peter spread his hands. 

“Of course advice from a bowling champ worked.” 

“You know that you just gave me what I need to absolutely demolish you, right?” Cheri queried, and Peter shook his head. 

“Won’t happen. I’m too good.”

Cheri walked past him to sit back down, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Guess we’ll see, won’t we?” 

Ned studied the way Peter followed her with his eyes, amazed that there wasn’t drool pooling around his friend’s feet by now. “All right,” he muttered to Harry, “maybe I was a little off, but I still think it’s going to take some time, because Peter will go through stages where he worries that she doesn’t like him at all.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” Harry replied with a grin. “You’ll regret it come March, two years from now.”

“We’ll see,” Ned retorted. 


	2. Friends-giving: The Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter really wants to hang out with Cheri. Alone. Which means no Ned or Harry.  
That doesn't happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some people are probably wondering, "Where's the next chapter of 'It Gets Worse!?" and to them I say: "Listen. There's only six chapters left, and my damn OCD brain convinced me it would more aesthetically pleasing if I just waited to start uploading those six chapters until next week, so that the story will end two Fridays from now, all nice and neat. So. It's coming on Monday."

Peter leaned around the tree that he currently sat next to, looking in the direction of the only fine arts building on campus. Unlike many of the other buildings, this one did not have a constant stream of students heading in or out of it, but that was all right, because it made it much easier for him to catch sight of the person that he was waiting to come out of it. Cheri parted ways with a classmate at the bottom of the building’s stairs, smiling a bit and nodding a few times before she fixed the strap of her messenger bag and headed for the library.

Peter quickly jumped to his feet and hurried after her, keeping a safe distance, so that he wouldn’t enter the library too soon after she did, and thus let her on to the fact that he’d very much been waiting for her. As such, he waited maybe five minutes after she’d pushed her way into the oldest building on campus, before doing the same. He had to dodge out of the way of a group of freshmen that came hurrying out of the building, carrying a big cardboard display between them.

“Looks great,” he said to them, holding the door open so that it wouldn’t hit the one closest to it in the butt, and then he ducked the rest of the way into the library. He caught sight of Cheri’s head of dark, curly hair where she was seated in one of the arm chairs against the rear wall, away from the 80 computers that took up most of the first floor. She had a textbook open on her legs, a notebook resting on the arm of the chair, and appeared to be taking notes.

_Shit, she’s busy,_ Peter thought, immediately regretting the decision to follow her. _Maybe I could do this some other time. _

He’d only decided to do this in the first place because he hadn’t been able to speak with her much since Harry’s party. They’d exchanged numbers (she’d also given hers to Ned), and they’d been chatting over text since the party, but that was about it. Peter didn’t mind the text talk, of course, but there was - well.

He liked the idea of being able to talk to her in person, of being able to look at her while they chatted. Without Harry and Ned making fun of him for it when they were no longer near her, because whenever he had seen her in person, it had always been with one or the other of them, or both. Both was the worst.

And like, that was it. He didn’t want to have a conversation with her without Harry or Ned there for absolutely no other reason. Other than the fact that he thought she was gorgeous, and wanted to see her smile at him, see her dimples come out just because of him, and not because of whatever argument he happened to get into with his friends that made her grin.

Looking at her across the library, he was struck with the sudden urge to take a picture of her, sitting in that armchair, curls hanging over her face due to the fact that she was bent over her notebook, scribbling notes. He didn’t really think about it as he slowly pulled out his phone, and took the picture. She was left-handed, he realized. 

Someone suddenly shoved into him from behind, muttering a curse as they went. Peter jumped, surprised that he hadn’t realized the person was coming, and figured it probably had to do with the fact that he’d very much been focusing solely on Cheri. Maybe this was a bad idea altogether.

Unfortunately, before he could fully convince himself to turn and leave the library, Cheri glanced up, for no apparent reason. Their eyes met, clear across the room, and Peter melted all the way down to his toes when she offered him a smile, and waved her hand, inviting him over to where she was.

He didn’t even bother trying to fight against the choice to go to her. He practically drifted across the library, floating on the feeling that seeing her smile had flooded through him, and paused in front of the armchair she occupied, sliding his phone away again.

“Hey,” she said, cheerfully. “What’re you doing here?”

“I - I was, uh…” _Speak, Spider-Dork!_ “Uh, I was looking for you, actually.” _You absolute joke of a man. _

“Oh, really?’ Cheri sounded surprised, and a little bit confused, not that Peter blamed her. “What for?”

“I… I have a paper, that I need to write, and Harry said that you’re, like, the master of paper writing,” Peter said, hating himself a little bit more with each word that came from his mouth. “So I thought I’d try to catch you, see if you could… offer any tips.”

“Ah,” Cheri said, smiling now. And there were her dimples. _Focus, Peter, don’t stare._ “What class is this for?”

“Uh… class - it’s for, uhm, it’s for one of my biology ones, yeah.” Man, he wanted to kick his own ass.

“One of your ‘biology ones’,” Cheri repeated, and it was becoming more and more obvious to Peter that this was not exactly going the way he’d have liked for it to, namely in the fact that he was a shit liar, and Cheri was seeing through everything he said. “And what is it about?”

“Uh… the… human… reproductive system,” Peter said, and winced. “Ugh. No, it’s not. Hi. Sorry. I just, uh… talking to you over text has been fun, but I wanted to see you in person, and I saw you come in here, so I thought I’d come in, say hi, see if you wanted to… I dunno. Hang out.”

Both of Cheri’s eyebrows raised, and Peter was confused to note this expression as one of surprise. She hadn’t been expecting him to say that, maybe? But why? Hadn’t he been pretty obvious with his interest in getting to know her better in their text conversations?

“I mean, you could’ve just opened with that,” Cheri finally said, and Peter blinked a few times, before rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, well… socially inept, y’know.”

Cheri chuckled, and then gestured to the textbook she still had in her lap. “I’m - I mean, I’d love to hang out with you, Pete, but I’m kind of busy,” she said, and she did sound regretful. “So… rain check?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Peter said immediately, dropping his hand to his side and nodding quickly. “I mean - yeah. No problem. Freshman year can be super busy.”

“Right,” Cheri agreed. “Sorry.”

“Not - you don’t have to apologize,” Peter said, feeling terrible. “Jeez, I’m sorry. I should’ve seen that you were clearly doing something, and not, uh… yeah. Sorry.”

Cheri tilted her head for a moment in contemplation. Peter waited, his heart lodged somewhere inside his trachea, which was making it very hard to swallow.

“I mean… if you’re willing to hang out on campus for a bit, we could have dinner or something?” she finally suggested, and now his heart was pounding, alongside being stuck in his throat, which did not help matters at all.

As such, he could only nod, desperately trying to swallow once again so that he’d be able to speak. “I’d - yeah. That’d be great.”

“Cool,” Cheri said, beaming at him. “I should be done in… maybe a half-hour? Forty five minutes? The chapter’s twenty pages, so.”

“Right, no problem,” Peter said. “I actually do have a project that I need to work on, so I’ll… I’ll just go hop on one of the computers and do that, while you do this.” He gestured to the textbook.

“Sounds good,” Cheri said. “Hey, maybe we could see if Harry and Ned are still on campus, too, ask if they want to join us?”

Peter’s heart dropped into his stomach, weighed down by the ten thousand pounds of despair that exploded within him at those words. All the same, he managed a nod, and a weak smile that he very much hoped was not obviously weak.

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll… I’ll text them.”

“Awesome,” Cheri said, and she looked back down at the textbook again. Peter lingered in front of the chair she sat in for another five seconds before moving towards a computer that was a good distance away. He sank down heavily into the chair in front of it, sighing, and tugged his phone out of his pocket.

> _Me: Cheri and I are gonna get dinner. Either of you around? _
> 
> _Ned: Oh, cool, yeah. When?_
> 
> _Me: Half-hour or so, I guess. She’s taking notes. _
> 
> _Ned: Sick, just when class gets out. I’ll meet you guys at the library. _
> 
> _Harry: Yeah, I’m meeting with my prof. when class is over, but when I’m done I’ll come find you guys. Let me know where you decide to eat. _
> 
> _Me: No problem. _

Peter slid his phone back into his pocket, and gazed blankly at the dark screen of the outdated computer for a moment. New plan, his brain sighed, eventually, and he leaned forward to log into his student account, in order to get some work done, since he was sitting here anyway.

Of course, as was typical, he became immersed in his project, and so when Cheri approached him from behind about half-an-hour later, he was grateful for his senses alerting him of her presence before she touched his shoulder and scared the hell out of him.

“Hey,” she said when he turned to look at her. She grinned. “You ready?”

“Yep, lemme just save this really quick…” He did so, and then nodded to himself, picking up his bag where he’d dropped it on the floor. He stood, turning to look at her. “Uh, Ned and Harry are going to meet us, too.”

“Great,” Cheri said. “Let’s get something that Harry hates.”

Peter smiled, and walked with her to the door of the library. “What class were you taking notes for?” he asked.

“Oh, an introductory education course,” Cheri responded. She rolled her eyes. “I think the professor assumes that we’re all going to be teaching elementary school, because every method we’ve learned about so far has been based around little kids. It’s very frustrating.”

“I can see how it would be, yeah,” Peter agreed. “Well, at least it's just an introductory course.”

“Right, I’ll probably never see this professor again, after this semester is over. Thank God.” They paused briefly on the steps outside of the library, and Cheri inhaled the fall air, smiling to herself. Nearby, a group of freshmen boys stamped their way through a pile of fallen leaves. One of them shoved another into a different pile, and a third tackled the one that had shoved the first into the pile as well.

Cheri watched this occur, clearly amused, and she glanced at Peter. “Bet that sort of thing is above you now, huh?” she queried, nodded towards the wrestling match.

“I mean, yeah,” Peter said, and he stretched his arms behind his head, putting on a masculine voice. “As a much more mature sophomore, I’d never.” He grinned, and lowered his arms, voice going back to normal. “Unless I was walking with Ned and couldn’t resist.”

Cheri laughed. “Not Harry?”

“He’s too fragile,” Peter replied. His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out. “Ned’s on his way.”

“Cool. What about Harry?” Cheri asked.

“Said he was meeting with a professor when class let out, so he’ll probably be a bit,” Peter replied, sliding his phone back into his pocket. He bounced on his toes for a moment. “So… what do you like to eat?”

“Depends, on campus or off?”

“I mean, it’s gotta be off, right?” Peter asked, and Cheri smiled.

“Yeah.”

“So… there’s plenty around here, if you aren’t afraid to walk,” Peter said.

Cheri snorted, knocked against him with her shoulder. “I’m not afraid to walk. Ass.”

Peter lifted his shoulders with a grin, just as Ned jogged up to them. “Hey,” he said, fixing the straps of his backpack. “Where’re we going?”

“We were just figuring that out,” Cheri said. “Any preference?”

“Mm.” Ned tilted his head back and forth. “What do I… want…?”

Peter and Cheri exchanged a look. She mouthed the word, _Deli?_ Peter nodded in agreement, and they walked away from Ned.

“Hey, wait, what?” Ned said, turning around and hurrying after them. “Since when do you guys have silent conversations?”

“Newly established,” Peter said over his shoulder.

“Yeah, we learned how to do it today, actually, before you got here,” Cheri added. She smirked at Peter, who grinned back.

“You guys suck,” Ned sighed, finally catching up enough to walk on Peter’s other side. “I’m telling Harry that we need to work together to gang up on you.”

“You and Harry versus Peter and I?” Cheri asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Doesn’t sound like much of a competition,” Peter said.

“Yeah, no, it doesn’t really, does it?” Cheri agreed.

Ned shook his head, sighing a little, and Peter smiled to himself. They made their way to the deli a block over, Peter and Cheri joking back and forth at Ned’s expense. When they had all ordered and gotten their sandwiches, they pulled together two two-seater tables in the corner of the small building. Cheri sat down next to Ned, which was fine, Peter adamantly told himself. As they ate, conversation drifted from classes, to the impending doom that was finals.

Both Peter and Ned assured Cheri that college finals were not as bad as all her high school teachers had no doubt made them sound, although Cheri seemed skeptical.

However, neither Ned or Peter were worried about her, especially when the trivia that she had skipped kindergarten made itself known.

“Wait, you skipped kindergarten?” Peter asked, blinking at her, and Cheri nodded. “How does - I mean, how do you even do that?”

“I was… super smart, in my preschool classes, I guess,” Cheri said, “and the instructor suggested my mom register me straight into first grade.” She lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know, how important is kindergarten in the first place?”

“Pretty important, I think,” Peter said, exchanging a glance with Ned, who lifted his shoulders.

“I mean, if you already got a lot of practice interacting with other kids, and you know how to spell and count already, do you really need kindergarten?” He frowned at Peter. “Besides, you skipped first grade.”

“Yeah, but that’s different,” Peter said. “First grade is basically the same as second grade, right?”

Ned glanced at Cheri, who smiled and took a bite out of her sandwich.

The bell over the door chimed, and Harry ducked inside, bundled up inside a heavy coat even though it was only in the mid-forties outside. Peter waved him over, and Harry nodded, stepping up to the counter to order. Peter returned his attention to Cheri and Ned.

“So we’re just… done talking about it, then?” he asked.

“Yes,” Cheri said, lifting a tomato out of her sandwich and dropping it onto his plate instead. Peter made a face, and she lifted her shoulders. “I don’t like tomatoes, and Harry isn’t sitting down. Otherwise, I’d force it on him; the boy could eat more vegetables.”

Harry arrived at the table, and plopped down in the seat next to Peter’s, who promptly slid the tomato over to him. Harry groaned, and poked at it with his finger. “Really?”

“Eat it,” Cheri said, fixing him with a look.

“Ugh, fine,” Harry said. He screwed up his face, a bit more dramatically than Peter thought necessary, and then shoved the whole slice of tomato into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, and then gasped out a breath, leaning his forehead against the table top. Peter patted his back comfortingly while Ned and Cheri exchanged an eye roll.

“One day,” Harry muttered without lifting his head. “One day, I’m going to die. And none of you are going to give a shit.”

“Oh, please,” Cheri said, snorting. “I’ll give at least two shits.” Harry popped up and tore a piece of bread off of his sandwich, throwing it at her. Cheri batted it away, grinning, and she looked at Ned. “So, how’s that build going?”

“Oh, fantastic,” Ned said, quickly swallowing the piece of sandwich he’d just taken a bite of. “Seriously, the case is like, this big -”

Peter drowned out his friend, focusing solely on Cheri. She listened to Ned talk, a small smile on her face, even though Peter was sure she didn’t really know anything about schematics of PC building, nor did she care. This meant that she had asked purely because she knew that Ned appreciated being able to talk about it. Knowing this about her, that she’d chosen to start this conversation for the sake of Ned, gave Peter that same warm feeling inside that seemed to grow more prominent (and thus less easy to ignore) each time it made itself known.

He felt a nudge against his arm, and managed to pull his gaze away from Cheri long enough to look at Harry. His friend raised his eyebrows, and tilted his head in Cheri’s direction. The meaningful look on his face made Peter frown, and he shook his head, turning away again.

“Anyway, Peter’s supposed to help me with that,” Ned was saying.

“Right,” Peter put in, although he didn’t know what Ned was talking about. “Uh… when do you want to do that?”

Ned lifted his shoulders. “The whole build needs to be done by next Saturday, so.”

“All right, we’ll find time,” Peter said, and he looked at Cheri. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“I don’t know,” Cheri admitted. “Uh… well, before my _abuelo_ died, we used to do a big dinner at my grandparents’ apartment, but… I don’t think that’s going to be happening this year.” She lifted her shoulders, and fiddled with the crust of her sandwich. “Maybe my _abuela_ will just come to our apartment, and we’ll do something small.”

Peter had never felt worse. “I - sorry,” he murmured, and Cheri glanced up at him.

“For what?” He gestured vaguely, and she offered him a small smile. “It’s all right, Pete.”

He managed a nod, and looked away again. He’d need to get better at knowing what to say, and when to say it. He’d been hoping to bring up the idea of her maybe joining them for their “Friends-giving”, but figured he’d ruined that. Besides, she probably would rather spend it with her mother and grandmother, anyway.

“Well, if you want, the three of us do a “Friends-giving” the weekend before Thanksgiving,” Harry said through a mouthful of sandwich, “so if you wanted to come to that, you totally could.”

Peter let out a breath that he hoped was silent, since it was produced out of annoyance.

Cheri lifted an eyebrow. “Am I qualified for “Friends-giving”?” she asked, glancing at Ned and Peter.

“I mean, you were invited,” Ned said with a shrug. “That’s all you really need.” He nudged Peter in the shin, under the table. “And it helps if we all like you, which I think we do, right, Peter?”

“Yeah, totally,” Peter said. “I mean, if Harry hadn’t invited you, I would have.”

Cheri smiled a little. “What does “Friends-giving” include?” she asked.

“We all pick up a different type of food before going home,” Harry explained. “We share it all, like a potluck, kind of, but with three of us. The person who brings the type of food that is barely touched has to do something stupid that the other two decide on. It’s a lot of fun.”

“Well.” Cheri toyed with the crust of her sandwich again, thinking it over. “It sounds like fun…”

“Then you should come,” Ned said. “Shouldn’t she, Peter?”

“Yeah, we’d… we’d like you to,” Peter told her. “It’ll be more interesting with a fourth food option thrown in.”

Cheri let out a laugh. “All right, I’ll come,” she said. She poked Ned in the arm. “What kind of stupid thing might I have to do?”

“Well, to be fair, we only did this last year,” Ned said, “and Harry had to call a random number that Peter and I dialed and try to sell whoever picked up a subscription to The Jolly Good Citrus Club, which obviously isn’t a real thing.”

“Right,” Peter said, grinning as he remembered. “The number he dialed was a nursery.”

“Oh no!” Cheri said, giggling. Harry rolled his eyes.

“I felt super bad, because they really sounded like they wanted to try out the fifteen new species of citrus plant that had been discovered in the last decade,” he sighed. “They were literally about to give me their credit card information when we ended the call.”

“Well, you had to, right?” Cheri asked. “I mean, otherwise, it would have become illegal!”

“I mean, it was probably already illegal, in the fact that he was selling a fake product,” Peter admitted.

“But no one was hurt,” Ned said. “Except for the botanist that wanted to be able to grow a mystery citrus plant each month!”

“And that’s on you guys,” Harry declared.

“Hey, they probably wouldn’t have been so upset if you hadn’t marketed the fake subscription so well!” Peter responded.

“So it’s my fault because I’m good at salesmanship?” Harry demanded.

“Yes,” Ned and Peter replied together.

Harry shook his head and turned to face Cheri. “Do you see what I have to put up with?”

Cheri had her chin in her hand, a smile on her face. Her dimples immediately drew Peter’s eyes, because of how cute they were. “I think it’s fun,” she said. “Consider me doubly sold.”

“Again with the salesmanship!” Ned said, gesturing, and Harry snorted before popping the last of his sandwich into his mouth and dusting off his hands.

“Are we done?” he asked, looking around at them all.

“Yeah,” Cheri said, and she stood, picking up all their baskets and carting them over to a trash can. While she was out of earshot, Ned and Harry turned to Peter.

“You gonna ask her out?” they asked at the same time, and Peter blinked.

“Whoa, what?” he asked, not feigning his surprise in the slightest. “Where did this come from?”

“Oh, come on,” Harry said with a sigh.

_“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”_ Ned put in, in a very bad impression of Peter’s voice. “Are you joking?”

“I was just… making conversation!” Peter said, hotly.

“Sure you were,” Harry scoffed. “You’re lucky I swooped in and ask her for you, because I know you weren’t going to, after her grandpa came up.”

Well, that was true, but did Harry really have to say it out loud? Peter scowled. “I’m not planning on asking her out,” he insisted, lowering his voice as Cheri turned to walk back to the table. “So drop it, okay?”

Ned and Harry exchanged a glance, but neither of them said anything else. Thankfully, because Cheri reached the table, and bent down to grab her bag. She tilted her head. “Who’s got the honor of walking me to my car?” she asked, half-joking.

“We’ll all go,” Harry decided, and he pushed himself to a standing position, pulling his own backpack off the back of the chair he’d been sitting in. “Right, guys?”

“Yeah, totally,” Ned agreed, popping up as well. Peter, very subtly, tightened his hand into a fist when Ned looked over at him. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, Peter.”

“I’ll go,” Peter said, managing to speak evenly despite the fact that he was fuming on the inside. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Cheri glanced between the two of them for a moment, before she looked at Harry. “Your friends are kind of weird,” she said, speaking in a faux-whisper. Harry reached over and patted her on the shoulder.

“Hate to break it to you, buddy, but they’re technically your friends too, now,” he told her.

“Shit,” Cheri sighed. “That’s really what an invitation to “Friends-giving” means, doesn’t it?” Harry offered her a sullen nod. “Then I guess I’ve brought this upon myself.” She turned and started for the door, calling over her shoulder. “Let’s go then, friends. If we must.”

“Yes, _friends,”_ Harry agreed, his own tone dry now that she was further away. He offered Peter a look that was equally void of any sort of emotion. “Let’s go.”

Man, Peter didn’t like his friends at all, sometimes. Ned batted his eyelashes at him, and Peter scoffed, grabbing up his own bag and pushing past both of them out of the deli, after Cheri. Harry and Ned exchanged a gleeful glance, and hurried from the deli. 


	3. Friends-giving: The Main Event

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friends-giving is a good time.

**November 24th, 2020 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“Welcome to _ Casa del Trio,” _Harry said, and he spread his arms outward to indicate the entire front room of the apartment. 

“It’s nice,” Cheri said, looking around. “How much is rent a month?” 

“Around $3,000,” Harry said, and when Cheri blanched, he shrugged. “Not a big deal.”

“Are you kidding?” 

“No. You know who my dad is, Cheri,” Harry said with a roll of his eyes. “And since Peter’s moved in, it’s gotten even better.” 

“Why, is Peter’s family rich, too?” Cheri asked.

“No, not at all,” Harry replied. “He’s just… got someone who’s pretty invested in his well being, who’s taking care of it.”

Cheri frowned a little, not really knowing what that could mean, but before she could ask him to elaborate, Harry walked away towards the kitchen, taking the two bags of food that they’d both brought back to the apartment with him. 

“Hate to break it to you, Cheri,” he called, “but you might be the one to be punished.”

“Oh yeah?” Cheri queried, following him to the kitchen. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and watched as he unloaded the take away containers. “Why’s that?” 

“Ned’s not the biggest fan of Thai,” Harry replied. “And even though _ I _ love it, I can’t eat as much as the other two, so…”

Cheri smiled. “We’ll see,” she said, and then she waved her hand. “It’s better than what you picked out.” 

“What’d you mean?” Harry demanded. He waved his hand. “It’s _ pasta.” _

“It’s _ only _ pasta,” Cheri said, shaking her head. “Where’s the substance?” 

Harry started to retort, no doubt to give her an itemized list of different reasons why pasta didn’t need a side dish, but he was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening again. Cheri turned around to face it, and grinned at Ned and Peter, who were both carrying different take out bags of their own. 

_ “McDonalds?” _she demanded, noticing the logo on one, and Ned huffed, hiding it behind his back. 

“I couldn’t think of anything better, don’t judge me.”

Cheri looked at Peter’s unmarked bag. “What’d you bring?” she asked him. 

“Just some Chinese,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “I didn’t want to put too much thought into it, either. Everyone likes a good orange chicken.”

“If you say so,” Cheri said with a smirk, taking the bags from them before heading back into the kitchen. Harry leaned around her, and made a face at his friends. 

“What the hell, guys?” he asked. “Does _ no one _ care about “Friends-giving”?”

“I put a lot of thought into mine,” Ned informed him. “By… not thinking of anything else, McDonald’s was, in fact, my best idea!” 

“Did you bring fries?” Cheri asked from the kitchen, and Ned scoffed in a _ Of course I did, are you kidding? _kind of way. She chuckled. “Well, then, it’s perfectly fine, as long as they aren’t cold.”

“No, I waited around to make sure they gave me a fresh batch,” Ned said. He actually sounded a little proud. “So, boo on all of you.”

Peter shuffled around Harry into the kitchen as well, joining Cheri. She’d started to set up all the food on the counter, was playing Tetris with different takeout containers. He picked a couple up, and switched them around a bit, so that she could fit a third in between them. 

“Hey, thanks,” she said, amused. “Too bad there’s no such thing as Team Tetris.”

“There probably is,” Peter said. A vision of the two of them as old people floated into his head, sitting in front of their see-through TV, playing a game of Tetris together, just like couples in the nineties did crossword puzzles together. He shook it off as quickly as he could, and cleared his throat. “Glad you decided to come.”

Cheri lifted her shoulders. “I’m excited to see what stupid thing the loser tonight will have to do.”

“You don’t think it’ll be you?” Peter asked, and Cheri shook her head. “Why?” 

“I have a plan,” she replied with a smile. She turned, leaned back against the counter, tilting her face up towards his. “And besides, you wouldn’t let me lose, my first time, right?” 

Peter struggled to find an answer for her. Thankfully, before he could stammer out something that didn’t make any sense, Ned stuck his head into the kitchen. 

“We eating or what?” he asked. 

“We’re eating,” Cheri said, moving away from Peter. “I was just trying to be helpful.”

“Mhm,” Ned said, stepping into the kitchen once she was out of the way. He grabbed Peter’s arm, and tugged, effectively pulling Peter’s attention away from where Cheri had been. “Peter, _ listen _ to me,” he said, voice low. “Cheri brought Thai. I _ hate _ Thai.”

“It isn’t so bad,” Peter said after a moment. 

“Peter!” Ned said, sharply. “Do _ not _ let your attraction to this girl ruin “Friends-giving”. If she loses, she loses, fair and square.”

“We can’t let her lose, though!” Peter retorted. “If she loses, she might decide that she doesn’t want to do this again, and that would suck!”

“If she’s cool, then she’ll take the punishment if she gets it,” Ned said. He picked up one of the paper plates that Harry had gotten, and shoved it into Peter’s chest. “Do _ not _ eat all her food for her.”

“He’s right,” Harry said, leaning into the kitchen as well. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “She went to the bathroom. We are talking about how Peter’s not supposed to let her not lose, right?” 

“Yes,” Ned replied, glaring at Peter. “Eat what you want.”

“But -”

“Peter, it’ll be obvious if you eat all the Thai,” Harry told him. 

“Exactly. Also that,” Ned agreed. “So _ don’t.” _

Peter let out a breath, and glared at Ned while he reached for a serving spoon, piling some of the pasta that Harry had brought onto his plate. “Fine,” he said, annoyed. “I won’t make this easy for her.” 

“Good,” Ned said, and he seemed mollified. He picked up one of the hamburgers from McDonald’s, and handed it to him. “Let’s enjoy our food.”

Once Ned had turned his back, Peter quickly loaded his plate with quite a bit of the Thai that Cheri had brought. He didn’t want Cheri to deal with losing “Friends-giving”, especially with how evil Ned and Harry could be when coming up with punishments. They would not go easy on her, he knew, and he had a feeling that if either he _ or _ Cheri ended up losing tonight, the punishment would in some way force Peter to reveal his attraction to her, which he was absolutely not ready to do. 

Yeah, no, he’d be eating all of Cheri’s food, and hopefully his Chinese would be more popular than Ned’s nasty fake meat and Harry’s boring pasta dishes. Legally, he wasn’t allowed to have more than one serving of the food that he’d brought, so it was up to the natural course of things to make sure that _ he _ didn’t lose. 

The night progressed smoothly. While they ate, sitting around the coffee table in the main room of the apartment, the four of them played a pretty severe roleplaying version of ‘Whodunit?’. 

“Y’know what? I don’t think anybody was capable of committing this crime aside from Dr. Floozle,” Ned declared halfway through the game. 

Harry scoffed. “How dare you?” he demanded. “I am a man of _ literature.” _

“I tend to agree with the Professor, Doctor,” Cheri said, shaking her head. “You are the only person present at this party who could have possibly known the amount of words that are in _ The Scarlet Letter, _ which was the code necessary for breaking into the vault.” 

“Exactly my thinking,” Ned said. “Thank you, Captain Hertz.”

Harry glanced between the two of them for a moment, before looking at Peter. “Are they being serious?” he asked, no longer using the terrible Swedish accent he’d been trying to maintain since the game had begun. 

“They seem serious,” Peter replied with a sigh. Cheri and Ned had been attempting to form a duo since the beginning as well, even though working together with a single person was against the rules. “They’re ganging up on you.”

“Gah, I knew it,” Harry said. He shot them both a glare. “I _ knew _ it was a bad idea to play this game with the two of you. Cheri was playing those mystery point-and-click computer games until she was a sophomore in high school, and Ned’s read literally every single Nancy Drew book that’s ever been published.”

Ned and Cheri exchanged a pleased look. “Confess, Dr. Floozle!” Cheri said, using the German accent she’d adopted to represent her own character. 

“Fine! I broke into the fucking vault,” Harry said, throwing up his hands. “God, can we play a _ fun _ game, now?”

“You’re just angry that you picked the bad card again,” Ned decided, picking at what remained on his plate. 

“Well, maybe, yeah,” Harry said, “but I _ always _ get the bad card!” He frowned down at his own empty plate, which had been only been piled with food from Cheri’s addition to the potluck. “I want to eat more food, but I probably shouldn’t, because I think I’m pretty close to throwing up.” 

“Gross,” Cheri said, standing. She took his plate. “Are you guys done, too?” She indicated Peter and Ned’s plates, both of which were now empty. 

Peter worried the inside of his lip for a moment. “I don’t know,” he said. “I might want more.” _ Depending on what’s still left in the kitchen. _

“All right,” Cheri said with a shrug. “Ned?” 

“I think I’m good,” he said, and Peter silently cheered. “I might blow up if I have more.” 

Cheri laughed, and picked up his plate as well, before heading for the kitchen. Peter immediately jumped up and went after her with his own plate in hand, leaving Harry and Ned to argue some more about the merits of Whodunit? as a role playing game. 

Once in the kitchen, Peter took a look at the food. All of it seemed pretty evenly matched, aside from Ned’s McDonald’s collection, which was only missing a couple of burgers and a container of fries. Peter’s shoulders relaxed, and he joined Cheri at the sink, where she was busy cleaning the silverware they’d been using. 

“You don’t need to do that,” Peter said. 

“Sure I do,” Cheri answered, smiling at him. “I actually don’t mind doing dishes, because I hate a full sink even more.” She gestured, and he handed her a dish towel, which she used to dry off a couple of forks. “Besides, you guys invited me, so -”

“That’s the point; you’re our guest. You shouldn’t have to be doing our chores,” Peter told her. 

“Don’t even worry about it.” She nodded towards the food. “Who do you think lost?” 

“It looks like Ned might have,” Peter said. “We’ll need to check his receipt and see what he bought and what’s gone, but I’m pretty sure there’s significantly more McDonald’s leftover than anything else.” 

“And what’s the punishment going to be?” Cheri queried. 

Peter smirked, probably a little more devilishely than necessary. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

About an hour later, after deliberation of receipts and a vote in which the majority ruled, the four of them stood on the roof of the apartment building. Ned was stripped down to his boxers, and shivering hardcore in the autumnal wind blowing in from the east. He stood a fair distance away from the others, arms cradled across his chest, glaring. 

“This is so fucking stupid,” he said, and not for the first time. 

“Majority rule, homie,” Harry said, hefting one of the uneaten Big Macs. “This is the hand you’ve been dealt due to your poor food choice.”

Ned’s glare turned fully to Peter instead. “Or due to someone else’s pity,” he muttered. 

Cheri looked curiously at Peter, who very carefully did not meet her gaze. Instead, he picked up a container of french fries, and looked at Harry. “Do you want to go first?” 

“Yes, please,” Harry said, cheerfully. He opened the box that held the Big Mac, and pulled the burger out. It dripped McDonald’s sauce onto the rooftop. He grinned evilly, and looked at Ned again. “You ready?” 

“For you?” Ned snorted. “Go ahead, Smalls, pitch it.” 

Harry’s grin faded into a scowl, and he threw the Big Mac with all his might. And, much to Peter’s surprise, and clearly Ned’s as well, it hit Ned dead center in the chest with a wet _ splorch. _ Cheri burst into laughter, bending at the waist, while Ned hissed and Harry smugly crossed his arms. 

“I think you meant to call me Benjamin Franklin Rodriguez,” he said. 

“Okay, you both suck,” Peter said, “Ned because Harry just proved you the hell wrong, and Harry because Benny was not the pitcher, it was Kenny DeNunez, but it’s whatever.” Cheri continued to snicker next to him, and he tried to bite back a smile of his own, but failed. “I’m gonna hit you with french fries now.”

Ned inhaled sharply. “Fine.” 

Peter grabbed a single french fry from the box, and threw it. Hard, like a dart. It pelted Ned in the neck, and he flinched. 

“What, did that _ hurt?” _Harry asked in disbelief. 

“It got me, like, right in the adam’s apple,” Ned replied, coughing a few times. 

“That was an accident, I’m sorry,” Peter said, but his smile had grown. He threw another one, with a little less power. It smacked Ned on the forehead, leaving behind a greasy residue. 

“Okay, if you throw the fries one at a time, we’re going to be up here all night, and _ I’m _ cold,” Cheri said, finally recovering enough from her laughing spell to speak. 

“She has a point,” Harry agreed, unwrapping another burger. “We have a lot of ammo left.” 

“Right, okay.” Peter dumped the remainder of the fries into his hand and tossed them underhanded all at once. A couple landed in what remained of the Big Mac, and stuck to Ned’s chest, which Peter thought was pretty good. He nodded to himself, and looked at Cheri, gesturing. “Your turn.”

“Right, uh, Ned? I’m really sorry for this,” she said. 

“Sure,” he mumbled, closing his eyes and squaring his shoulders. 

Cheri let out a breath, eyeing the apple pie that she held in her hand. She squinted a little, first at Ned, and then at the pie again, before she threw it. Peter and Harry watched in awe as it arced gracefully through the air, and splattered against Ned’s face. 

“Yes!” Harry exclaimed, almost dropping the burger he held in his jubilation. Cheri clasped her hands in front of her, smiling sheepishly. Peter could only watch in a mix of amazement and horror as the pie crust and apple filling slid slowly down Ned’s face, onto the roof. Ned licked his lips, blinking through apple filling. 

“Y’know,” he began after a moment, “I want to be mad, but I can’t be, because that was really fuckin’ impressive.”

Harry shook his head. “I almost don’t want to keep going, because I really don’t think it can get better than that,” he said. 

“Yeah, and also I’m pretty sure my nipples have gone numb. It’s _ real _ cold out here,” Ned added. 

“We may have to stop for the sake of avoiding hypothermia,” Peter allowed. He looked at Cheri. “That was real good, though. Perfect end to the punishment.”

“Definitely,” Harry agreed, dropping the burger into the bag they’d brought up to the roof with them. “Thank you for that.”

Cheri picked up the towel they’d brought as well, and tossed it to Ned. He caught it, and wiped his face with it. “I’m sorry, Ned,” she said again. 

He smiled at her. “No, don’t even worry about it,” he said. “It was my punishment, I deserved it.” He glanced at Peter again, before walking past them towards the door leading back inside. “Stupid McDonald’s. I should’ve known.”

“I told you,” Harry said, following after him. 

Peter started to do the same, but he paused when he realized that Cheri was not joining them. He looked back towards where she remained, arms crossed, now. 

“What?” he asked, frowning. 

“Ned mentioned he might have lost because of someone’s pity,” Cheri said. Peter exhaled. “I should’ve taken that punishment, right?” 

“No, I mean - you were in third, definitely, but -”

“Peter.”

His shoulders fell, and he kicked at the rooftop. “Yeah,” he sighed. “You probably would have lost if I hadn’t had as much of your food as I did.” He winced a little. “I don’t really like Thai, but I didn’t want you to end up with a punishment on your first, like, time at our apartment.”

“Why not?” 

“Because… maybe you wouldn’t have come back,” Peter admitted. 

There was silence for a moment. Peter couldn’t tell if Cheri was fighting back a smile or if she was trying hard not to yell at him.

In the end, it was neither. Instead, she said, “I’m not - y’know, I could’ve handled a punishment.”

“I know.”

“So…?”

He sighed. “I just didn’t want your first impression of us to be that we’re dicks.”

“Well, Pete, I already _ know _ that Harry’s a dick,” Cheri pointed out, and he smiled a little. 

“True.”

“And the fact that we forced Ned up here in only his underwear and threw his leftovers at him was dick-ish, too.”

“Okay, fair, but also he lost, so.”

“Pete.”

“Yeah?” 

“Thank you.”

Peter glanced at her, and saw she was smiling again. “It wasn’t a big deal,” he said, shrugging a little. 

“Oddly, though, I feel like I should be punished somehow,” she went on. “Even if it’s just between the two of us, since we know.”

“But we already punished Ned,” Peter reminded her. 

“And I threw an apple pie into his face.”

“Yes, you did, that was _ awesome, _ by the way,” Peter said. 

“Thank you,” Cheri responded. “To be honest, I knew it was going to get him in the face. Like, I _ aimed.” _ Peter laughed, and she grinned, kicking at the rooftop. “Anyway. Give me something embarrassing to do, so I feel at least the tiniest bit less guilty.”

“Hey, if anyone should feel guilty, it’s me, since I’m the one who made Ned lose,” Peter pointed out, “but since I have a feeling you won’t let this go…”

“I won’t,” Cheri confirmed. 

“... I guess…” Peter glanced around, trying to come up with something. After a moment, he grinned, and walked towards her, holding out his hand. “Come with me.”

Cheri placed her hand into his willingly enough, and Peter led her to the edge of the rooftop. He helped her onto the ledge, and then gestured with his free hand. “Shout the most embarrassing thing you can think of, off the top of your head,” he told her 

“What?” Cheri asked, a little confused, but still smiling in amusement. 

“Yeah, that’s your punishment,” Peter said. “Go.”

Cheri gazed at him for another moment, her hand still in his. Peter stared back, smirking in order to disguise just how anxious he felt, holding her hand and waiting to hear what she would say. 

Finally, she snorted, and faced forward, looking out over the rooftops surrounding them. Peter very quickly pulled out his phone, in order to record the next series of events. She inhaled, deeply, spread her arms and shouted, “I know all the words to every song in _ Cats!” _

Peter burst into laughter, and Cheri stepped down from the ledge on her own, sticking her hands deep into the pockets of the jacket she was wearing. She glared playfully at him until he was able to get a rein on his laughter, and he sniffled, wiping at his eyes, putting away his phone again. 

“Thank you,” he said, grinning at her. “That is exactly what I wanted to hear.”

“You cannot repeat that to anyone we both know, ever,” she warned, and Peter held up his hands. 

“I wouldn’t.” 

Still, the promise did not stop him from humming _ Memories _ as they walked through the door leading back into the building. Cheri cursed, and grabbed for him, but Peter swiftly ducked out of the way and picked up his pace, singing the actual words now as Cheri chased him down the stairs, laughing all the way. 


	4. A Meeting at the Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can post this now that the secret's out over in 'Better All The Time'.

**January 3rd, 2021 - Empire State University - Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

Cheri blew out a breath, which formed into a white cloud as soon as it left her mouth. She rubbed her gloved hands together, and hurried away from the parking lot near the library towards the building itself. School wasn’t back in session, yet, but the library was always open, and she needed to find a book for one of her spring classes, that the professor had said was available as a class set from the library. 

She was about to pull open the doors to the building when someone spoke from the shadows near the entrance. “Ms. Schultz.”

She paused, hand halfway to the handle of one of the doors, and turned in the direction the voice had come from. A figure dressed all in black moved out of the shadows towards her. Bald, eyepatch, ever-present look of contempt; Cheri knew who he was on sight. 

“Director Fury,” she said, blinking. “What - uh…” She walked away from the doors. “Wow. What’re you doing here? I haven’t - I mean, you were at my _ abuelo’s _ funeral, but that was the last time I saw you.”

Fury studied her for a moment. “Didn’t exactly have a reason to stop by and say hello,” he said, and then he tilted his head. “Follow me.”

“Uh… I don’t think -”

“Schultz.” The tone of his voice cut her off, and she squared her shoulders. She followed him around to the rear of the building, and found a black Audi idling there, steam projecting from its exhaust pipe. Fury climbed into the vehicle, behind the wheel, and after a moment, Cheri sat down in the passenger seat. 

“What is this about?” she asked, keeping her gaze forward. 

“We’ve noticed that you’ve recently started a friendly relationship with Peter Parker,” Fury said, and Cheri shot him a look of surprise. 

“How do you know Peter?” she asked. 

“Mr. Parker has done some work for our organization, in the past,” Fury responded. “He isn’t the _ easiest _ to work with, but he is effective. However, since then, we’ve been unable to keep an eye on his activity, due to… some legal matters, put into place by someone very close to Parker.”

“Who?” Cheri managed. “And what… what work was he doing for you?” 

“You mean to say that you’ve been around this kid for almost three months and you haven’t noticed anything strange?” Fury responded, dryly. “You were trained as an agent, Schultz, put some of it to use.”

Cheri scowled. “Obviously I’ve _ noticed _ things,” she said, annoyed. “He - I mean, sometimes he’s super distracted, and when I see him, he’s limping or something, and he doesn’t tell me why or anything like that. Harry doesn’t seem to have any clue, and Ned’s sort of just as weird about it as Peter is.” She faced forward again. “So, sure, I have some ideas of what’s up with him, but it isn’t like I can go up to him and demand to know if I’m right. Like you said, I’ve known him for three months.”

“But it’s been enough time for you to make some connections,” Fury concluded. 

“Is Peter Spider-Man?” Cheri asked after a moment of silence. Fury’s lack of response gave his answer, and she let out a breath, leaning back in the seat of the Audi. “And what do you want from me?” 

“Just for you to keep an eye on him,” Fury said. “Make sure he doesn’t get involved in anything that he shouldn’t. Make sure that he sticks to stopping the petty crimes of New York, like he’s been doing for the last five years.” 

“And… if I tell you I don’t want to do that?” Cheri asked, evenly. 

Fury shifted behind the wheel. “I don’t think you will,” he said. 

Cheri inhaled. “I barely know him.”

“Then get to know him better,” Fury told her. “Maybe he’ll start to confide in you.”

Cheri shook her head. “We’ll never get to be that close.”

“Hm.” The noise made her frown, and she opened the door of the car, slipping out of it into the cold air once more. Fury leaned across the console, rolling down the window to speak to her further. “Keep us in the loop. Your mother will have more information for you when you get home this evening.”

Cheri walked away from the car without replying, shoving her hands into the pockets of her coat. She heard Fury pull away, and turned to watch the black Audi disappear from view, snow kicking up from beneath its wheels. 

Inhaling, she glanced around for a moment, and then turned, heading back around the library to actually walk inside, this time. She paused at the reception desk, and requested the book she needed, before pulling out her phone. She stared down at it for a moment, before typing out a message. 

> _ Me: Hey, you busy tonight? _
> 
> _ Peter: Oh, hey! Uh… no, not really. I sort of have something to do, but it can wait. What’s up? _

Cheri bit back her feelings.

> _ Me: I just wanted to know if you maybe wanted to hang out. _
> 
> _ Peter: Yeah, that’d be great! _
> 
> _ Me: Cool. Meet you at your place in a half-hour? _
> 
> _ Peter: Sounds awesome. _

The receptionist returned with the book, and slid it across the counter to her. Cheri thanked her, sliding the book into her bag, before she turned and walked away, across the library and into one of the armchairs. She pulled her knees up to her chest, breathing slowly for a moment. 

Her grandfather had worked for SHIELD for close to thirty years. About fifteen of that had been while Cheri was younger. Her mother had worked for them, too, for about five years when she was a little girl. Around the time she turned thirteen, her grandfather suggested that maybe it could be a job for her, too, and Cheri had been a little hesitant, but had accepted the training that was offered to her all the same. There was no harm in learning how to defend yourself, after all. For the next two years, she’d worked had, learning hand-to-hand combat, how to fire a gun, and all matters of things that probably weren’t typically taught to a young lady in America. By the time that her _ abuelo _ decided to retire, Cheri had concluded her training. Both Tata and her mother had assumed it was only a matter of time before she was contacted, to do some sort of work. 

She hadn’t been, however, hadn’t seen anyone related to SHIELD until her grandfather’s death, the year prior. There, they’d encountered Director Fury, who had greeted them both without much give away that he knew who either of them were, despite the obvious. Cheri knew that her mother had never worked closely with the director, but her grandfather had known him rather well, had gone on a few missions with him when they were both younger. 

Still, she’s never wanted to be counted as an agent of SHIELD, and so she was perfectly fine with never receiving a task from them, of any kind, but was happy to know that she’d be able to defend herself, if the need ever arose. 

Apparently, all of the other training would be coming in handy instead, now that Fury wanted her keeping tabs on Peter. And Peter was _ Spider-Man, _on top of it all. She’d had her suspicions, obviously, seeing a pattern in crimes being stopped one night, and watching a very clearly exhausted and injured Peter stumbled around campus the next day. She’d never brought it up, but to know for certain that what she’d concluded was true… 

But she couldn’t tell him she knew. He’d want to know how, and she couldn’t tell him _ that. _ Fury had said that Peter had worked with SHIELD, and that someone close to Peter had taken measures to ensure that SHIELD could no longer keep an eye on him. Cheri had to wonder who this person was, considering she knew that Peter’s parents were both dead, and his aunt helped run the FEAST shelter, which while a noble profession did not mean she had contacts that ensured an underground agency could not watch her nephew. 

Maybe she’d made a mistake, deciding to become friends with Peter. She should’ve backed off the minute she’d realized that he might be Spider-Man, should have guessed that SHIELD might take advantage of the fact that she knew him, and might ask her to do something relating to him. The very last thing she wanted was for their growing friendship to be put in jeopardy because she had the assignment, now, to watch him for the very people that someone close to him, and clearly very important, did not _ want _ to watch him. 

_Shit,_ she thought to herself, pressing her face into her knees. _I am in so much trouble._ _Maybe I should just… stop this, now. _

But no, she couldn’t do that, because she _ liked _ Peter. Liked him a lot, in fact. She thought he was very funny, had a great personality, and she even thought he was cute, with his brown hair and clefted chin and ears that stuck out a bit. There was always a glitter of humor in his eyes, and when it went away, while he was being serious, studying or otherwise… well. 

She liked him. She didn’t want to stop trying to be friends with him, stop talking to him, just because she didn’t want to get mixed up in whatever was going on because he was Spider-Man. After all, she’d been trained as a SHIELD agent. This was something she was built for. 

She could still be his friend, while keeping tabs on him for SHIELD. After all, who knew? Maybe SHIELD just wanted to keep an eye out, in case something big happened, and Peter decided to involve himself. Maybe if she was able to tell SHIELD about it, because she was close to Peter, they’d be able to help him, if he ever needed it. 

Yeah. That… that sounded good. She’d do this for Peter, to ensure that he had SHIELD on his side if he ever needed them to be. Even if he _ was _ Spider-Man, and no doubt knew how to handle himself by now, it was always good to have powerful people at your back, just in case. Cheri would just be… the middle-man. She could do that. 

Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it free of her pocket. 

> _ Harry: You were going to hang out with Peter without *telling me?* How could you? _
> 
> _ Me: Obviously you’re invited too, idiot, it’s your apartment. _
> 
> _ Harry: Oh. Right. Right! I knew that. Ned’s here too, btw. _
> 
> _ Me: Great! The more the merrier. We can all play Uno or something. _
> 
> _ Harry: Ooh, no, probably not a good idea. _

Cheri did not want to know why Harry thought this, or why his response to her suggestion to play Uno had come so quickly. Clearly, there was a history involved with the card game and the Trio, and one that was not the most pretty. Or peaceful. 

> _ Me: Fine, a boring movie, then. _
> 
> _ Harry: Tit. _
> 
> _ Me: Shrew. _

She put her phone away again, and forced herself to get up. Whatever they ended up doing, it would be fun. They would make it fun, the four of them. It was a shared talent. 


	5. Audition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Empire State University's drama department has elected to put on 'Anastasia' as their spring 2021 musical production. Cheri's a musical person. Makes sense that she'd audition. 
> 
> Until the simple process of auditioning proves itself to be far from simple. At least, from Cheri's perspective.

**February 9th, 2021 - Empire State University - Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“Which is why I think it’s stupid that we have to take different classes for different instruments, even though some of them could all be taught at the same time.”

Peter smiled indulgently. “I can see why you feel that way,” he said, and Cheri held out her hands. 

“Right? Isn’t it ridiculous? I have to take at  _ least _ six credits more a semester than other students because of the friggin’ instruments we have to learn! Plus, they’re making me take piano, even though I’ve been playing piano since I could  _ walk, _ and - holy shit, are they  _ really?” _

She had fallen into a dead halt in front of a notice board in the quad. Peter stopped, and turned, walking back the few steps he’d gone forward without her. “What?” he asked, and Cheri gestured frantically to the notice board. Peter looked at it, frowning a bit. “The Lederhosen Club? They always do a fashion show.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand why they do it in February though.”

“No, not  _ that,” _ Cheri said, and she pointed.  _ “That!” _

Peter looked, and saw what she had originally indicated. “The musical auditions?” 

“Yes! They’re doing  _ Anastasia!”  _ Cheri was  _ beaming. _ It was a good look on her. “I’ve always wanted to be Anya!” 

“Oh, then you should totally sign up,” Peter said. Why wouldn't she, being a music major and everything. 

Cheri nodded, and started to reach into her bag for a pen. Even as she did so, however, Peter noticed her motions slow, and her hand pause inside her bag. She gazed at the sign-up sheet for auditions, eyeing the list of names already there, before she sighed to herself. She withdrew her hand from her bag, pen-less. 

“What, what’s the matter?” Peter asked, confused. “I thought you were excited, and now you look kind of sad.” 

“It’s just -” Cheri shook her head. “I don’t think they’d pick me.” 

“What? Why not? You’re good!” 

“Yeah, but I’m also a Latina,” Cheri murmured. 

Peter frowned. “Was that a problem in elementary school or something?” he asked. 

“And middle school. And high school.” She lifted her shoulders. “Whenever the lead was typically white, they would give that part to a white student. Even if... y'know, they made a mess of the part.” 

“Well… that sounds like bullshit,” Peter said, and Cheri shrugged again. “No, seriously, Cheri, that’s - that’s totally unfair.” He shook his head, and pulled a pen out of his pocket, holding it out to her. “It won’t happen here, though.”

“Pete -”

“Cheryl Schultz, if you don’t put your name on that list, I will put it there for you,  _ and _ choose the song you audition with,” he threatened. He reached out, picked up her hand, and placed the pen into it. He then positioned her hand over the next line on the sign-up sheet. “Do it.”

Cheri stared at him for a moment, clearly stunned. Peter realized that he still had his hand around hers, and quickly pulled it away, clearing his throat and running it through the hair on the back of his head. “Please,” he added, a little bit quieter.

She smiled a little, to Peter’s relief, and with a flourish, put her name down on the audition sign-up. Peter nodded, smiling as well, and took his pen back when she offered it to him. 

“Good,” he said. 

“Shit,” she said, and his smile fell. 

“What now?”

She turned back to him, eyes wide. “Auditions are  _ Friday!” _ she exclaimed. “How am I supposed to come up with a song to sing  _ and _ a monologue in three days?” 

Peter thought about it for exactly three seconds before he grinned. “With a little help from your friends,” he said, and Cheri let out a soft snort. Peter’s grin faltered a little. “Seriously.”

“Yes, I know,” she said. “I just think it’s funny that you think you, Harry, or Ned could possibly help me choose an appropriate monologue or song.” 

“What do you mean? Ned  _ loves _ Broadway, and Harry’s day job is method acting,” Peter said. “And… I just would like to help. So… let us. Help.” 

Cheri gazed at him, and Peter did his best not to look as though he knew he would be close to useless in this endeavor. After a moment, she relented, visibly, and nodded. 

“All right, fine,” she said. “We need to get started, like, right now, though.” She glanced at her watch. “Okay, uh… one of my professors has a book full of Broadway solos that I could borrow, so I’ll go find her and then meet you. Good?” 

“Yeah, great, I’ll text the boys, and we’ll meet up at the apartment,” Peter replied. 

“Okay,” Cheri said. She was smiling again. “Thank you, Pete. Really.”

“No problem. Go get that book!” he said. 

“Right.” Cheri turned and hurried off, hair flying. Peter watched her go, smiling to himself, before he pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to the group chat. 

> _ Me: SOS.  _
> 
> _ Ned: God, is it *actually* an SOS Peter or is it something stupid like the time Harry flushed his backpack strap down the toilet and couldn’t get it out?  _
> 
> _ Harry: Hey! That was a *real* emergency! I had class in like twenty minutes!  _
> 
> _ Me: It’s not for me, it’s for Cheri. She needs help choosing a song and a monologue for the musical audition.  _
> 
> _ Ned: Cheri’s auditioning for the *musical*?? Hell yes, I am there.  _
> 
> _ Harry: I’m impressed. How did you convince her?  _
> 
> _ Me: What do you mean?  _
> 
> _ Harry: I mean Cheri hasn’t signed up for a musical since freshman year of high school. When the Bad Thing happened.  _

The fabled Bad Thing. Peter still didn’t know what it was, and he didn’t know if Cheri was close to trusting him enough to tell him. As such, he responded to Harry’s mention of it the same way he always did: by completely pretending that it hadn’t even come up. 

> _ Me: I kind of had to force her to put her name down, but it’s fine. Are you in, drama queen?  _
> 
> _ Harry: I suppose I can… spare my precious hours in order to help out a poor unfortunate soul.  _
> 
> _ Ned: Too much.  _
> 
> _ Harry: It’s *acting* darling! It’s never enough!  _

Peter shook his head to himself, and slid his phone into his pocket before adjusting his backpack straps and heading off campus in the direction of their apartment. 

**February 11th - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“Yes, fantastic, you did it,” Harry said dryly, as he forced his head upright from where it had been dangling between his hands for the past ten minutes. “God, can we  _ go to bed _ now?” 

Cheri let out a breath, twisting one of her curls around her finger as she reached for the printed out monologue that sat on the coffee table. She read it over to herself, frowning, a crease between her brows. “I just don’t know…”

“Cheri, it’s  _ great,” _ Harry said, standing up and throwing his hands in the air. “I promise that there is literally  _ nothing _ you can do to improve it, okay?” 

Cheri stared at him for a moment, before scoffing. “What do you know, you’re an environmental science major!” she exclaimed, throwing the monologue down and sinking into a crouch, her head between  _ her _ hands, now. “God, this is going to go terribly.”

Harry exhaled, sharply. He pointed towards her, looking at Peter, who’d silently been sitting on the other side of the couch, pretending that he wasn’t in the room. 

“You talk to her,” Harry said. “I need to get some sleep. Good night!” He stalked out of the front room, and Peter heard his door swing shut. He looked at Cheri, almost afraid to do so, and saw that she had not moved. 

“Okay,” he said softly, and then he shifted down the couch until he was sitting in the center of it, across the coffee table from her. “Cheri?” 

“What?” she asked, voice muffled. 

“Uh… I think your monologue is really good,” he said. “But you’re right, it won’t be as strong as your song, and that’s… I think that’s okay.” 

“It’s  _ not _ though!” Cheri said, lifting her head and looking at him. “I mean it. This isn’t just about  _ singing.  _ You have to be an actor, too, and really, I’m  _ not.” _ She pressed a hand to her forehead, falling into a sitting position. “Maybe I should just admit defeat now, and not bother.”

“No, I’m not going to let you do that,” Peter told her. “You’re going to go to that audition tomorrow, and do a fantastic job.” 

Cheri merely shook her head in response, gazing blankly at the floor. Peter studied her for a moment, struggling to figure out what the next best thing to say to her was, since apparently reassurances were not working. 

“Cher,” he began, and she glanced at him. “Harry said you haven’t auditioned for a musical since freshman year of high school.” 

“He’s right, I haven’t,” Cheri murmured, lowering her gaze again. 

Peter hesitated before going on: “Do you… do you want to talk about why?” 

Cheri inhaled shakily. Peter waited. 

After a long moment, she looked up once more, and surprisingly, she met his gaze. “Harry didn’t tell you yet, huh?” she asked, and Peter shook his head. “I’m surprised. It’s one of those things that he likes to brag about, even though he really doesn’t have anything  _ to _ brag about, considering what actually happened.” 

“If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to,” Peter assured. “Just… I think it might be a good idea, so that you can… I don’t know. Deal with any fear that might still exist because of it. Bad feelings or whatever.” 

“Realize that it’s completely stupid,” Cheri said, and Peter shook his head. 

“No, I’m sure that it’s the furthest thing from stupid,” he told her. Cheri snorted, quietly, and he leaned forward a bit. “Talk to me.”

She did not respond for several minutes. Peter could hear Ned’s soft snoring from his bedroom, which he’d retired to almost five hours prior, having been released from his task because of how well Cheri performed the song they’d chosen together. 

“All right,” Cheri began, quietly, and Peter immediately returned his full attention to her. She was gazing at him again, her eyes even darker than they usually were. “I… I guess it’s about time I told you, because I do trust you with this, Pete. You have to remember that pretty much  _ no one _ knows about this. My mom doesn't even know the whole story.”

“Right,” Peter said, although now he was even more concerned. From the way Harry spoke of it, the Bad Thing had always seemed like a part of their lives that had happened, and therefore was done with, leaving them space to joke lightheartedly about the whole situation, whatever it had been. Apparently, it went much deeper than that. 

Cheri was shaking, a little. Peter stood up from the couch and moved around the coffee table to join her on the floor. He left plenty of space between the two of them, however, and waited. 

“Freshman year of high school,” she began after a long moment of silence. “Uh… I’d pretty much been bullied my… entire life, I guess, up to this point, for my heritage. Harry had earned literal scars from protecting me from kids who wanted to… beat the shit out of me. I’d prayed all summer that high school would be different, that I’d finally find a group of friends who accepted me, maybe were even  _ like _ me. I shouldn’t have bothered.

“I joined the school’s drama club,” she continued. “Choir was fine, but I wanted another way to spend my free time, and drama seemed like a cool choice. It was all right, for the most part. Everyone in the club was mistreated by other kids, and I thought that maybe it was better than nothing, being part of a larger group who were also getting kicked around and called names, because at least we were in it together, right?” 

“I’m… I’m going to guess that’s… not how it was,” Peter said when she stopped speaking. 

“Yeah, what gave it away?” Cheri asked, a little sharply. Peter must have winced, because the hard look on her face faded, slightly. “Sorry.” 

“No it - I probably deserved that,” Peter murmured. “Go on.”

Cheri did so, after taking a moment to breathe. “It was pretty much like any school you see in movies,” she said. “They always did a big musical at the end of each semester, one that they rehearsed for maybe two months before opening night. The spring musical that our director picked was  _ Grease,  _ which, like, is a very bad onstage musical, but I liked the songs, and I… I wanted to be Sandy, obviously.” 

Peter did not speak when she paused again, sensing that the hardest part of telling this story was fast approaching, and wanting to give her the silence she needed in order to formulate what she had to say. Cheri chewed on the corner of her lip, and Peter was horrified when he saw a tear race down her cheek. 

“I signed up to audition. I chose a song and a monologue, perfected them both, went to the audition. The director gave me the role. I’d… it was the first time  _ ever _ that I’d been chosen for a lead, in literal  _ years _ of joining drama clubs and auditioning for shows. But it didn’t matter, because there were kids that did not like the idea of a Latina playing the typically white lead in the high school show. Just like there were kids and teachers who did not like the idea of a Latina playing the white lead in any of the other shows I’d auditioned for.

“They chased Harry and I after school, one day, right down an alley. They left me alone, but only because Harry got in their way, and when they were done with him, they were too tired to deal with me, I guess, or maybe they thought what they’d done to him was enough to warn me off. Or maybe it was because they had a backup plan to trip me on the staircase the next day.” 

She tugged at the edge of the leggings she was wearing, pulling the left side up to her knee, and revealing the pale scar that stretched from the top of it to the bottom. Peter lifted his eyebrows, and Cheri raised her shoulders, sliding her leggings back into place. 

“I fractured it. They had to do surgery, and I had to be out of school for two weeks. I didn’t tell my mom what had happened, exactly, since I was so embarrassed and hurt that the people I’d thought I’d formed a sort of solidarity with had been the ones to do it. I just told her that I fell on accident. I had to give up the part, obviously, and I never went back to another drama club meeting after that.”

Peter continued to stare at her, even after she’d fallen silent. She chanced a glance at him, and forced a smirk. “So… that’s the whole sorry story,” she said, trying for a joking tone and failing miserably. “You feel bad for me, now?” 

“No, I - I’m  _ pissed off _ for you,” Peter said. He’d clenched his fists, at some point, and now opened them, not surprised to see the indents his nails had made in his palm. He gazed at the marks for a moment before turning back to her, flexing his hand. “It’s fucking unfair.”

“Yeah,” Cheri agreed, quietly. “It was. But it happened, and I’m over it, so.”

“Cheri, that isn’t something that you should just say that you’re ‘over’,” Peter told her. “That’s - you could have pressed charges!”

“With what evidence?” Cheri asked him. “I couldn’t prove that they tripped me, going down the stairs, and Harry’s father wouldn’t have done shit for him, even if he  _ had _ told him that a bunch of drama geeks had beaten him down in an alleyway five blocks from the school.” 

Peter wanted to argue some more, but he didn’t know what there was left to say. Cheri was right, in some ways; the event had happened close to five years ago, now. She  _ didn’t _ have any evidence that she hadn’t fallen down the stairs on accident, and most likely, Harry’s father wouldn’t do anything to help him sue the kids who’d beaten him up. 

There was no point in dwelling on it. 

“It’s still unfair,” he muttered at last. “You could have had a much different high school experience if those kids had been dealt with.”

“Well, they weren’t, and I didn’t,” Cheri said. “But the fact that I’m giving this a shot has to count for something, doesn’t it?” 

Peter glanced at her. “So, you’re actually going to go through with it, then?” he asked, and she nodded. 

“I’m tired of being afraid that the same thing will happen,” she said. “It’s a different time. This is college. There’s a goddamn  _ Lederhosen Club, _ for fuck’s sake.” Peter smiled, and she mirrored it, looking down again. “Even if I don’t get the role, I’m… I have to try. Because I won’t let something that happened literal years ago keep me from doing what I  _ want _ to do, from trying to get involved.” 

Peter let out a breath, and nodded. “Good.” He reached over, and, after hesitating for a moment, rested his hand on her arm. “And you  _ will _ get the part.” Cheri snorted. “You  _ will. _ You’re… you’re really good, Cheri.”

She did not look at him, but he thought she saw the corner of her mouth raise. “Thanks, Pete,” she said, quietly. They sat in silence for another moment, until Peter realized that he should probably pull his hand away. As soon as he did, Cheri shifted, going to stand. “I guess I should get home.”

“Well, hey, why don’t you stay here tonight?” Peter suggested. “I mean, it’s almost one in the morning, and the couch turns into a bed.”

“Peter, I don’t -”

“Didn’t you say something about your mom not liking it when you drive at night?” he asked, and Cheri sighed, but nodded. “So, let her know that you’re crashing with some friends. It’s been a long day.”

Cheri studied him for a moment, before she lifted her shoulders. “I guess I’d rather stay than drive home. I am exhausted.”

“Right,” Peter said. He stood up. “I’ll get the couch set up.” 

“I don’t have any clothes, but I guess it won’t be the first time I’ll be borrowing something of Harry’s,” Cheri said, standing as well. 

Peter stopped dead in his tracks, and turned to look at her. “You‘ve borrowed Harry’s clothes before?” he asked, hoping his voice wasn’t as high pitched as he thought it sounded. 

Cheri nodded. “Yeah,” she said, and she stretched. “Didn’t he tell you? We dated in high school.” 

She walked past him towards Harry’s bedroom, leaving Peter to gape after her, unable to move. His pulse was pounding painfully in his ears.  _ What the fuck. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a part II to this one, but I don't know when it's gonna be up because I have absolutely zero schedule for this monstrosity.


	6. It's A Little Bit Awkward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout of the revelation of Cheri and Harry's past relationship. 
> 
> Oh, yeah, and Cheri finds out about the audition. That also happens.

**February 15th, 2021 - Empire State University, Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

Peter stared down at the keyboard of his laptop, listening as Harry and Ned argued with one another about whether or not the three of them should attempt to cook something for dinner, or just pick something up on their way back to the apartment. 

“It’s been three weeks, is all I’m saying,” Ned said. 

“I see that, and raise you the fact that none of us know how to cook even a little,” Harry responded. 

“Speak for yourself,” Ned said, leaning back in the armchair that he’d sunk into, as soon as the three of them had arrived at the library. “I can make a mean bowl of cereal.”

“That isn’t  _ cooking, _ Ned,” Harry informed him. 

“It super is.” 

“Do you have to physically cook, bake, boil, broil, mix, or steam any of the things involved in making a bowl of cereal?” Harry asked, an eyebrow raised. 

“I mean… technically, you mix cereal and milk…”

“Jesus,” Harry sighed, and he gestured towards Ned, looking at Peter. “Will you talk some sense into him?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you and Cheri dated?” Peter blurted, looking up from the keyboard. He was fully aware of how accusatory he sounded, and he didn’t particularly care. Harry had spent the last four months trying to convince Peter to ask Cheri on a date, when the whole time, there had been an ocean of untold information separating Peter from even the possibility of doing that. 

Harry looked completely taken aback by the question, which Peter supposed he had every right to be. “Because… I didn’t think it was a big deal?” he finally managed, exchanging a glance with Ned. “It was for maybe six months, when she was a junior and I was a senior. If you asked either of us, I don’t think we’d even call it a relationship.”

“It was  _ six months,” _ Peter repeated, flabbergasted. “You don’t call  _ six months  _ a relationship?” 

“No, because literally nothing changed about how we interacted with one another, aside from the fact we kissed,” Harry replied, frowning. “But we both mutually decided that we worked better as friends, and we stopped kissing. What’s the issue, here?” 

“The issue is that I  _ like _ her, but I can’t - I can’t ask her to go out with me, knowing that it might make it weird for you!” Peter exclaimed. 

“You have to be joking,” Harry said, frowning. “Peter, I  _ know _ that you like her. If I had a problem with it, I wouldn’t have been trying to convince you to ask her out as long as I have been!” 

“Okay, but maybe it bothers me,” Peter said. 

“Why?”

“Because! How could I even measure up to you?” When Harry only stared at him blankly, Peter shook his head. “The stuff the two of you have gone through together, the way you protected her practically your whole lives -”

“Peter.”

“It just - why would I even bother?” Peter continued. “You, like, almost died for her, and I’m just -”

_ “Peter.” _ The edge to Harry’s voice cut into the stream of consciousness that was pouring out of Peter’s mouth, and he fell silent. Harry continued: “There is literally no reason for you not to ask Cheri out because of me. I knew that you’d, y’know, be attracted to her, and if it bothered me, I wouldn’t have introduced the two of you. It’s  _ because _ I knew that you’d like her that I introduced you two.” 

Peter started to respond, but before he could, he was interrupted by the arrival of Cheri, who blew into the library on a cold winter wind. She hurried over to where the three of them were sitting at the back of the building, and came to a halt, grinning widely. 

“Look at you,” Ned said, smiling back. “Having a good day?” 

“Absolutely,” Cheri said. She dropped her bag to the floor, and spread her arms. “Boys, you’re looking at Empire State University’s leading lady for the spring 2021 production of  _ Anastasia.” _

“Hey hey!” Harry said, clapping. “Congratulations!” 

“Yeah, we knew you could do it!” Ned agreed, his smile growing. “I bet you’re super excited.”

“You have  _ no idea,” _ Cheri said. She glanced at Peter, who’d gone back to staring at his laptop. He did not look at her, even when he felt her eyes on him. Harry nudged him with his elbow. Peter shrugged him off, maybe with a bit more force than necessary.

“Anyway, uh, rehearsals start next week,” Cheri said, after a moment. “I already got my script, and they said they don’t think I’m going to need much help with the music.” She paused, and then smiled sheepishly. “Thank God the music’s written for a mezzo-soprano. I’m not so good with high notes.”

“Yeah, she’s not,” Harry agreed, shaking his head a little, and Cheri reached over, swatting at the back of his head. Peter bit back the sharp remark that rose bitterly in his throat. “Kidding, kidding! Yeesh,” Harry said, holding up his hands. “You’re gonna be awesome, we all know it.”

“Right. Thanks,” Cheri said, and her eyes drifted back to Peter, who was steadfastly  _ not involving himself. _ “Uh… anyway. Just thought I’d let you all know, before I headed home.” She picked up her bag again, managing a small smile, although some of the life had clearly gone out of it. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Bye, Cheri,” Ned said, quietly, and watched as she walked away. He then turned a glare towards Peter, not that he needed to, since Harry was already glowering at him. “What the fuck was that?” 

“Sorry if I’m not in a celebratory mood,” Peter muttered. 

“Peter Parker, you’re the one who managed to convince her to audition in the first place!” Ned said, sharply. “Did you see the way she looked at you just now? I don’t know her nearly as well as either of you do, by now, but even I could see that she was hurt. You completely disregarded her.” 

“Seriously,” Harry agreed, shaking his head. “You need to go after her.”

“Are you joking?” 

“No, I’m not!” Harry shouted. Finally, one of the receptionists shot all three of them a dirty look. Peter was kind of surprised it hadn’t happened before now. Harry lowered his voice, and scowled at Peter. “She thinks you’re angry with her, and I’m sure she must be wondering why.”

“I’m not angry with her,” Peter grumbled, although he was starting to realize that he definitely had made it seem that way.  _ Oh God, I’m a shit head. What the hell did I just do? _

“You’re an asshole,” Harry went on. “And if this is the way that you’re going to let it happen, then I’m sorry I ever introduced you to her, because she deserves much better.” 

Peter continued to stare at his laptop for a moment, before cursing under his breath and jumping to his feet. He raced out of the library, ignoring the calls of the receptionist for him  _ not to run, _ and looked around once he’d pushed through the doors. He spotted Cheri, heading in the direction of the parking lot, clearly having paused to speak with someone. 

“Cheri, wait!” Peter called, running after her. 

She paused next to her car, which was parked pretty close to the library, and turned to look at him. Peter hurried over to her, and she lifted her eyebrows. “Where’s your jacket?” she asked. 

“I left it inside, I guess,” he said, stopping next to her. “I uh… I’m sorry for the way I acted just now. It - congratulations. You absolutely deserve the part, and you’re going to be amazing.” When she continued to stare at him, he hesitated, and then said, “I just - it’s been a rough few days, a lot of work, and I haven’t been sleeping very well, so it -”

“So you were an asshole,” she concluded for him. Peter snapped his mouth shut, and managed a nod of agreement. Cheri snorted, crossing her arms and looking away. “You can be an asshole, but you don’t need to lie about why you’re acting that way.” 

His shoulders slumped. Of course, he should’ve known that she’d guess the real reason. “I -” 

“You wish that I was more open to the idea of doing something about what happened to Harry and I,” Cheri said, before he could speak. Peter closed his mouth again, relief flooding through him. He managed another nod, unable to say anything, and Cheri sighed. “It happened years ago, Peter. There’s nothing to be done about it. I’ve moved on, pretty spectacularly, I think.”

“I… absolutely agree with you,” Peter said, and Cheri glanced at him, frowning. “Really. I’m sorry that I… acted the way I did. It, uh… it was wrong of me, and I should have been immediately happy for you. Which, again, I am. Super happy. Not that I expected anything different, of course you were going to get the part.” He tried for a smile, and found that he was able to succeed. “You’re going to be an awesome Anya. Anastasia. Both. They're the same." He sighed a little, hating himself very much. "You’re gonna be great.”

Cheri studied him for a moment longer, before her scowl faded, and she offered him a small smile instead. “Thank you, Pete,” she said, quietly. “I wouldn’t have gone through with it, if you hadn’t encouraged me to.”

“I think you would have,” Peter replied. 

“Why’s that?” Cheri asked. 

“Because you’re Cheri Schultz,” he said, “and that's just how you do. 'Cause you're awesome."

Cheri’s smile grew, and she punched him lightly on the arm. “Whatever,” she said. “You were still an asshole.”

“Yeah, I know, and I’m really sorry about that,” he told her. “Uh… could I… buy you a coffee? As a further apology, and a celebratory beverage? Normally I’d suggest ice cream, but it’s the middle of winter, so.”

Cheri nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “Coffee would be great.” She tilted her head. “I think you should go get your jacket, though. And maybe your other stuff, too.”

Peter blinked, finally actually realizing that he’d abandoned all of his things in the library when he’d run after her. “Shit,” he said, under his breath. “I’ll be right back.”

Cheri’s laughter followed him as he hurried back towards the building, and he smiled a little to himself. Maybe he wouldn’t be asking her out anytime soon, since it was weird for him to think about the fact that she’d dated his best friend, but he could still hang out with her, as friends. There was no reason not to do that. 


	7. Better Acquainted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheri and Peter talk a little bit about their personal lives, specifically, their strange family dynamics. Or, really, just Peter's.

**March 3rd, 2021 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“Harry’s mentioned that you were raised by your aunt and uncle?” 

Peter nodded, looking up from his lunch and at Cheri. “Yeah, my parents died in a car accident when I was four,” he said. “So my aunt and uncle took me in. Uh, and then my uncle died when I was fourteen, and it was just me and Aunt May, after that.” He smiled a little. “She did the best she could, and I think I turned out okay.”

Cheri smiled a bit in response to that. “Yeah.” She glanced down at her own lunch, and shrugged a little. “Do you ever try to remember your parents?” 

Peter considered. “I mean, not really,” he said after a moment. “Uh. I was only four, like I said, so I can’t… I don’t see the point.” He paused. “They didn’t… have much of an influence, I guess.”

“That makes sense,” Cheri said. She looked up at him again. “Sorry for the weird question. I just saw you with some lady, who I guess was your aunt, getting dinner a few days ago.”

“Oh.” Peter nodded. “Yeah, I try to have dinner with her at least once a week. She still lives over in Queens, and she’s pretty busy with the F.E.A.S.T. center, so once a week is sort of all we can manage. May’s good at taking care of other people.” 

“Yeah?” Cheri smiled a little. “That’s really cool.” She considered her food again, and then pushed it away from her, half-eaten. “Uh. Harry also said that you have someone paying for your part of the rent, which, yeah, you’d have to, since you don’t have a job?” 

“Right.” Peter shrugged. “I sort of have a job. During the summer, I work at Stark Industries. I’ve been doing that since I was fifteen, and Mr. Stark, Tony, he sort of took me under his wing.” 

“That’s a really long time,” Cheri said, and she sounded kind of impressed.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, considering. “It… it has been a while. I don’t know, it’s like, kind of weird to remember that Mr. Stark wasn’t always around. He’s been helping support May and I since I first got the internship.”

“That’s really generous of him,” Cheri said. 

“Yeah, I guess… I don’t know. He saw something in me, he said, that he wanted to see flourish, so.” He shrugged again. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s weird.” 

“Mm, no, not if you don’t think it’s weird. And May doesn’t. And Mr. Stark doesn’t,” Cheri said after a second. “I mean. Maybe he’s just trying to, like, fulfill need to be a parent without actually having any obligation to the child.”

Peter smiled a little at the suggestion. “He’s too invested, I think. But I appreciate having him around. He’s… well.” He let out a laugh. “I kind of think of him as a dad. I don’t think of May as my mom, and I never thought of my Uncle Ben as my dad, but there’s, like… I don’t know. There’s something different about my relationship with Mr. Stark that… makes me feel that way, without feeling weird about it.” 

“I think that’s cool,” Cheri said, and Peter looked over at her. She nodded. “Yeah. Kind of a found family situation. I dig it.”

_ If only you knew, _ Peter thought, sighing a little to himself.  _ My found family is a lot more than just Tony. _

In that moment, he wished that she knew. Maybe everything between them would be easier that way. If she knew he was Spider-Man. But Harry didn’t even know he was Spider-Man, and if he hadn’t yet told Harry, he couldn’t justify telling Cheri. He knew Harry better, arguably trusted him more. 

When it came down to it, Cheri was really just someone he found attractive, and wanted to know better. He didn’t know her nearly well enough to let her in on something as serious as Spider-Man. 

She sighed a little, glancing at her phone. “I need to get back over to campus,” she said, picking up her half-finished lunch. “Do you think one of the others would eat this for dinner?” 

“Yeah, Ned probably would,” Peter replied, and Cheri nodded in agreement, wrapping it up and sticking it in their fridge. She then picked up her bag from where it was sitting on the floor near the front door, and looked at him.

“When’s your next class?”

“I’m done for the day, actually,” Peter answered, stretching his arms up over his head. “My lab at 2 was cancelled, thank God.”

“Lucky,” Cheri sighed. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Probably.” 

“You want me to walk you over there?” Peter queried, and she turned back to him, surprised by the offer. Peter lifted his shoulders. “I don’t mind.”

“You sure?” Cheri asked, and he nodded, standing. “All right. I’d appreciate it.” 

“No problem,” Peter said, and he joined her. “Ladies first.”

Cheri smiled a little, and ducked out of the apartment ahead of him, lingering in the hall and watching as he locked the door behind them. They then headed downstairs, and out of the building altogether, in the direction of campus. 

“What’s your class?” Peter asked her as they walked. 

“Teaching techniques for flute,” she replied, and rolled her eyes to show how unenthusiastic about the topic she was. Peter smiled a little. 

“Not fun?”

“No, not fun,” Cheri said. “It’s like… the fuckin’ thing should be easy, right, after I learned how to teach the recorder? But the flute is  _ not _ the recorder; it’s no where close! And I don’t have, like, the  _ posture _ for it. It sucks.”

Peter laughed, and when Cheri shot him a glare, he said, “Sorry. I just - you’re willingly doing this, so.” 

Her shoulders slumped. “I know. And it doesn’t help that I’m also learning lines and, like, attending rehearsals four days a week, either. I think I’m going to burn myself out.” She hung her head, despondent. “Tell me I didn’t make a mistake auditioning for the musical.”

“You absolutely did not make a mistake auditioning for the musical,” Peter assured her. “You know how I know that?”

“How?” 

“Because  _ I _ convinced you to audition,” he said. Cheri let out a soft chuckle, but there was no heart in it. She really was tired, wasn’t she? “Hey, maybe you should see if you can skip rehearsal tonight.”

“Yeah, no,” she said. “That’s not even something I’ll consider, personally. I have to go; we’re blocking one of the biggest scenes of the show this week.” She lifted her head, and glanced at him. “I appreciate that you’re looking out for me, though.” 

Peter lifted his shoulders. “I just know how bad it can get, trying to do so much at once, and it - I don’t want you going through that, so.” He shook his head. “But it’s your choice, obviously.”

“Mm, thanks for that, too,” Cheri said, smiling a little. 

“Not to imply that… the choice was never yours,” Peter said, quietly, feeling a bit embarrassed. 

She nudged him with her elbow. “I’m just teasing you,” she told him. 

“Pfft, yeah, I knew that,” Peter said, even though he most definitely had not known it and was very relieved to hear her say it out loud. 

They reached campus within five minutes after that, and he walked her to the Walker School of Arts building. They paused at the foot of the stairs, and Cheri smiled at him. 

“Thanks, Queens,” she said. “You really didn’t need to walk me back, but I appreciate it.” 

“I’d rather walk with you than send you alone, even in the middle of the day,” he admitted. “Just… makes me feel better, I guess.”

“Afternoon, Ms. Schultz.” They both turned to see a professor-type fellow walking down the stairs, holding a briefcase. He paused, smiling at them both. “What’re you sitting through today?”

“Flute,” Cheri sighed. “Not looking forward to it.” The professor laughed, and Cheri gestured to Peter. “Doc, this is Peter. He’s a friend. Pete, this is Doctor Ward. He’s the head of the Walker School.”

“Wow,” Peter said, holding out his hand to shake Ward’. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“You too,” Ward said. “What’re you studying?”

“Uh, biomedical engineering,” Peter said. “Sort of. I haven’t really decided if that’s what I want to stick with. Thankfully, a lot of classes in engineering are necessary for all the different majors, so if I do decide to change, it’ll be easy.”

“Good for you,” Ward said, smiling, and then he looked over at Cheri. “Remember: parallel.”

“Yeah, whatever, Doc,” Cheri said tiredly. “Thanks for the completely useless advice.”

Ward laughed again. “Have a good class, Cheri,” he said, and then he kept walking, his briefcase swinging at his side. Cheri watched him go, barely disguised admiration in her eyes. Peter had to nudge her to get her attention back. 

“He seems cool.”

“He really is,” Cheri said, looking at him, eyes bright. “He doesn’t teach too many classes, but there’s a composition one with him that I really want to get into next semester. He’s also the faculty adviser for theater, so he’d always at  _ Anastasia  _ rehearsals.” She grinned a little. “Pretty sure he thinks I’m the bomb.”

“That’s just ‘cause you are,” Peter said, and was gratified to see that Cheri ducked her head a bit, smiling at the compliment. “Anyway, I’ll let you go to class. Maybe you could learn how to shoot spitballs out of the end of your flute.”

Cheri snorted. “That’d be awesome,” she said. “At least I’d get some use out of it.” She adjusted the strap of her bag, and smiled at him again. “I’ll see you later, Pete.”

“Sure, see you,” Peter agreed, and then watched her climb the stairs and duck into the building. He lingered where he was for a moment longer, before leaning up a little on his toes, and walking back the way he and Cheri had come.

The time that he and Cheri spent together alone had become much more frequent since she had auditioned for the musical. More often than not, she’d ask him to run lines with her, and this was actually the fourth time they’d eaten lunch together. Cheri had been waiting outside the building where his class was, and suggested they do so, and he’d agreed at once. 

So. Yeah. It was good. Cheri seemed to enjoy hanging out with him, and he definitely liked to hang out with her. He was still working on the idea that they would just be friends, considering that he was still insanely attracted to her, and had to struggle to remind himself that they weren’t  _ dating, _ no matter how frequently they were together. It wasn’t like they had gone out on a date, or anything, and that was fine. It was fine, because he didn’t  _ want _ to date her. And she definitely didn’t want to date him. 

Yeah. It was fine. They were becoming friends. He could do a friendship. He  _ wanted _ to do a friendship. And, like, she was getting closer to Ned, too. They’d had lunch a few times, and once, when Peter wasn’t available, Cheri had run lines with Ned instead, and when Peter had gotten home, he’d found them in the middle of a game of slapjack that had somehow also turned into truth or dare? It was weird, but it worked for the two of them, so he didn’t complain. 

They were becoming a friend group. Himself, Harry, Ned, and Cheri. It was cool. He and the boys would always be the Trio, obviously, but… Cheri was a fun addition. He was glad that Harry had introduced her to them. 

That feeling merely grew stronger as his phone buzzed, and he pulled it out to see that Cheri had sent him a text. 

> _ Cheri: Someone brought a rock that looks like a guitar pick to class. _
> 
> _ Me: Guess it’s for rock music, huh?  _
> 
> _ Cheri: Fucking hell, Pete.  _
> 
> _ Me: Haha. _
> 
> _ Cheri: Should’ve picked someone else to send this to.  _
> 
> _ Me: But then you would’ve missed out on my rockin’ joke.  _
> 
> _ Cheri: I expected as much from your pebble-sized brain, actually.  _
> 
> _ Me: C’mon, don’t tell me you weren’t rolling with laughter.  _
> 
> _ Cheri: I’m cutting the chord. Class is starting.  _

He smiled to himself, and kept walking. Yeah. She was good to have around, even if it was just as a friend. 


	8. 18 Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y'know, there really isn't much that's fun about turning eighteen, is there?

**March 15th, 2021 - Empire State University - Manhattan, New York, USA**

“I’m turning eighteen,” Cheri said, “but I don’t even get to do anything about it, since the next election isn’t for another three years.” She frowned a little. “Maybe I could storm the capitol building. Do you think they’d arrest me?”

“Yes, but consider: we could go buy spray paint,” Harry said, and she offered him a dry look. He lifted his shoulders. “Just coming up with suggestions that wouldn’t involve your subsequent arrest.”

“Ugh,” Cheri sighed, placing her chin in her hand. “Everyone’s always saying how an eighteenth birthday is super cool, but it really isn’t. You become an adult in the eyes of the public, but you aren’t allowed to do any adult things that are  _ fun.” _

“Yeah, it’s definitely a let down,” Harry agreed. “Hey, why don’t you come back to our apartment? Ned bought a karaoke machine from a dude who he said was wearing a lady’s pantsuit. We could try it out.”

“Mm, no, thanks,” Cheri said, shaking her head. She closed the lid of her laptop and slid it into her bag. “I think I’m just going to go home and think of all the cool things I can’t do as an eighteen-year-old.”

“Killjoy,” Harry called after her as she made her way to the doors of the library. She pushed them open, ducking outside. Mid-March, slightly frigid wind picked up some of her curls and danced with them as she walked towards where her car was parked, pulling her keys out of her bag. 

“Cheri, wait up!” She paused beside her car, and turned to see Peter jogging towards her. She smiled, lowering her keys, and he reached her, grinning broadly. “Happy birthday!” 

“You already sent me a text,” Cheri reminded him. 

“Yeah, I know, but I saw you walking and figured I might as well say it in person, too.” He nudged her shoulder with his fist. “Feel any older?”

“Yes, my bones are brittle, and I can feel my back arching,” she replied. “All those years of bad posture are getting to me.” Peter laughed, and she grinned. “Harry invited me to your guys’ apartment, said something about a karaoke machine Ned bought off of a cross dresser?” 

“I don’t think we can call him a cross dresser,” Peter replied. “Ned said he didn’t seem to notice that the pantsuit was definitely for women.” Cheri chuckled. “You said no, though?” 

“Yeah, I - y’know, I have a paper to write for my intro ed class, and then I need to go over lines,” she said. “Doctor Ward gave me a few notes at the last rehearsal, and I want to get them down before the next one.”

“Oh,” Peter said, a little crestfallen. “That doesn’t sound like a very fun birthday.” 

“It’ll be fun, later on,” Cheri said, managing a smile. “My mom always bakes me a homemade cake, but it never turns out very good, so we have to go pick one up from someplace. I choose a different bakery every year.” 

Peter frowned a little. “That’s… cool? But also sad that your mom can’t bake?” 

Cheri lifted her shoulders in a lighthearted shrug. “Makes for a fun tradition.” She smiled for real, meeting his eyes. “I’m glad I got to see you. The best birthday present I’ve gotten all day.”

Peter blinked as first her words set off a swarm of butterflies in his stomach, and then reminded him of the whole reason he’d actually chased her down. “Shit, I almost forgot!” he said, and he fumbled into the front pocket of his backpack for a moment. Cheri watched, an eyebrow cocked, as he pulled out a small box that was wrapped in a ribbon. He held it out to her, looking sheepish.

Cheri took it, chuckling. “Pete -”

“It’s really not anything great,” he said. “I just - I saw it when I was at the store a few days ago, and I thought of you.”  _ Because I definitely wasn’t looking specifically for a present or anything at a store I thought you might like something from. That’s not how it went at all. Nope.  _

Cheri exhaled. After studying him for a moment, she tugged the ribbon off the box and pulled the lid free. Inside of it rested a silver keychain, in the shape of a treble clef. She smiled softly, lifting it from the box, and glanced at him. “I love it,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Hey, you’re welcome,” he said, looking relieved. She handed him the box so that she could clip the keychain onto her bag. It swung proudly back and forth from a zipper, glinting happily in the weak sunlight. “I thought you’d appreciate a keychain, since you already have a necklace you wear, and I’m sure a bracelet probably doesn’t work out so well when playing the piano, or any instruments, really, so. Keychain.” 

Cheri reached up and touched the necklace that hung around her neck, which she hadn’t removed since her mother had gifted it to her on her thirteenth birthday.  _ You’re old enough to take care of it, _ she’d said of the expensive piece of jewelry. 

“Yeah,” Cheri said, quietly. “Uh, my mom said that my dad gave this necklace to her. She said he probably would have liked for me to have it.” 

“Oh.” Peter was surprised. Cheri had never mentioned her father before, not even in passing. “That’s - that’s cool. Super glad I didn’t get you a necklace, then.” Cheri nodded in agreement, and Peter snapped his fingers nervously for a moment, unsure of what there was left to say. “Well… happy birthday, again. I wish you didn’t have so much work to do, because the Trio knows how to throw a party.”

Cheri smirked. “Yeah, your bowling adventures are a whole lot of fun,” she teased. Peter scoffed. 

“That was  _ Harry’s _ idea, okay? Ned and I are a completely different story, especially when it comes to parties we can throw in our own home.” He hesitated for a moment, and then ventured: “Maybe this weekend you could test out the karaoke machine.” 

Cheri’s smirk softened into a smile instead, and she blinked at him, eyes glittering. “Only if you promise to sing with me,” she said, pulling open the door of her car. 

“Well, obviously I do,” Peter said. “Who would be dumb enough to pass up the chance to sing with Cheri Schultz?” 

She laughed, and ducked into her car. “Thanks again for the present, Queens,” she said. “I’ll see you later.”

“Okay,” he agreed, and he stepped back from the car. “See you.” 

He lifted a hand in farewell as she started the vehicle, and then pulled out of the parking spot, driving off towards the entrance of the lot. He waited until he could no longer see the car, before his shoulders slumped. He looked down at the box he held in his hands, still, and smiled to himself. 

_ Could’ve gone worse. _

As Cheri paused at a stop light, she considered, glancing sideways at where she’d tossed her bag into the passenger seat. She studied the keychain, smiling a little to herself, before she pressed the button on her steering wheel that would let her place a call. 

“Happy birthday,  _ mon  _ Cheri!” Megan greeted after the second ring. “I should be the one calling you, but I was going to wait until all your classes were done. What’s up?” 

“Are you busy?” Cheri asked, flipping her turn signal on. 

“Surprisingly, I am not,” Megan said, and Cheri could hear from the background noise that Megan had definitely just been in the middle of one of her weekly binge-watching sessions. She couldn’t remember what show it was this month. Megan inhaled. “Are you calling me to ask if I’ll go spray paint shopping with you?” 

“What? No. Why does everyone suggest that?” Cheri sighed. “I was calling to ask if you wanted to do something actually worthwhile with me, that I can legally do now without parent permission, as an eighteen-year-old adult.”

“Ooh, intrigue,” Megan said. “What do you have in mind?”

Cheri chewed on her lip for a moment. She glanced once more at the keychain, and then made up her mind. “A tattoo,” she said. 

“Oh!” Megan clapped excitedly. “Yes, yes! I am one hundred percent there for it. Here, let me text my dude, see if he’s got an appointment for today. It’s better to do it before you can think about it, trust me.”

Cheri smiled a little to herself. “Yeah, I bet.”

“What’re you thinking of getting?” Megan queried. “Might I suggest a sleeve?” 

“No, Meg,” Cheri said with a roll of her eyes. “I’m not getting a sleeve. Besides, don’t you have to keep going back for that?” 

“If you’re a  _ baby,” _ Megan said. “But seriously, do you have something in mind?”

“Yeah,” Cheri responded. “I do, actually.”

“Cool, cool. Jack’s totally got you covered.” Megan paused, and then said, “Yep, he’s got no one in right now.”

“Awesome,” Cheri said, letting out a breath. “I’ll come get you, and then we’ll head over there.”

“Yes!” Megan cheered. “Finally sticking it to the man!” 

“I’m not sticking anything to anyone, Meg,” Cheri told her. “Just doing a thing I can legally do as an eighteen-year-old.” 

“Pfft, whatever,” Megan said. “You know your mom’s going to hate it, and it’s gonna be awesome.” 

The corner of Cheri’s mouth raised. “You’re absolutely right,” she agreed.

* * *

Peter’s phone buzzed on the edge of the coffee table, at the same time he heard Harry’s going off where he was cooking dinner for himself in the kitchen. Peter was in the middle of typing something out on his laptop, however, so he did not immediately reach for his phone, imagining that it was probably a meme or something from Ned. As such, he’d turned off notifications from his phone on his laptop, so that he would not be distracted while working. 

However, a few seconds later, Ned hurried into the front room, phone held aloft. “Boys, the eighteen-year-old has made a realization,” he announced. Peter furrowed his brow, gazing at the screen of his laptop. That equation was wrong. 

“What?” he said over his shoulder, not having listened to whatever Ned had said. 

“Cheri,” Ned said, and Peter’s attention immediately jumped to him instead of his project. 

“What about her?” 

“God, Peter, pick up your phone!” Ned exclaimed. “Cheri discovered the one fun thing that an eighteen-year-old is allowed to do, and she did it!” 

Harry appeared from the kitchen, holding a cup of ramen noodles. He nodded. “It’s pretty cool.”

Peter fumbled for his phone. “What? What did she do?” he asked, trying to get it unlocked. He managed to do so after struggling to both hold the thing and type his passcode at the same time for about thirty seconds. He quickly tapped on the message notification from Cheri, and enlarged the image that had been sent to all three of them. 

He blinked at the picture for a moment, stunned. “Whoa,” he finally managed. 

Ned and Harry exchanged an amused look. “Chill out, horndog,” Harry said. “It’s only her shoulder.”

“That’s not - uh.” Peter let out a quiet laugh, tilting his head as he took in the simple but elegant black treble clef that Cheri had had tattooed onto the back of her shoulder. “It’s…” He trailed off, smiling a little to himself, and then he closed the message, glancing over at his friends. “Nothing. It looks awesome, though.”

Harry and Ned exchanged a knowing look, but Peter ignored them in favor of turning his focus back to his project. All the same, he kept thinking about Cheri's tattoo, and couldn't help but think that he might have partially been the cause of her choosing to get a treble clef. He decided he needed to know.

As such, later that evening, he typed out a message to Cheri, in the conversation between just the two of them. 

> _ Me: Nice choice; very symbolic.  _
> 
> _ Cheri: Thanks. You kind of gave me the inspiration.  _

Peter’s cheeks burned, but thankfully, this conversation was happening over text, so he didn’t have to worry about her seeing, and could recover with a smooth line. 

> _ Me: I am pretty good at that sort of thing.  _
> 
> _ Cheri: I’ve noticed. Keep it coming, and maybe I’ll name a song after you one day. _
> 
> _ Me: You’d name a song ‘Peter’? _
> 
> _ Cheri: No, goof. I’d be a little bit more creative than that.  _
> 
> _ Me: With my help, obvi.  _
> 
> _ Cheri: Exactly.  _
> 
> _ Me: Happy birthday, Cher.  _
> 
> _ Cheri: Thank you.  _
> 
> _ Cheri: <3 _

Peter gaped in surprise at the final message, his breath catching in his throat. A  _ heart? _ What kind of heart? Was it a friendship or, or, like, something more than a friendship heart? God, why did she have to send a  _ heart?  _

_ Guess I won’t be sleeping tonight, _ he thought to himself, sinking backwards onto his bed. 


	9. It Isn't A Prank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seriously. It isn't.

**April 1st, 2021 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“Thanks for your help, Pete,” Cheri said, taking her script back from him. “I appreciate having someone to feed me lines.”

“Anytime,” he said. “When’s the first show, again?” 

“May 14th,” she responded. “At seven. It’s free for students.”

“Sweet, we’ll definitely be there,” Peter said, smiling. Cheri returned it, sliding the script away into her bag before relaxing back into the couch with a sigh. Peter watched as she reached up and played with her necklace for a moment. He’d never been able to get a close look at it, but from where he sat next to her on the couch, he could see that it was gold, and had small diamonds hanging from the chain. 

“Hey,” he began, after a moment, and Cheri looked over at him. “You mentioned that your dad gave that necklace to your mom?” 

Cheri glanced down. “That’s what she told me,” she agreed, quietly.

“You don’t… I mean, you don’t really talk about your dad,” Peter ventured. 

“It’s because I don’t know anything about him,” Cheri replied. “He - well. My mom’s a single parent, which I think I’ve told you.” Peter nodded, and Cheri lifted her shoulders. “I’ve never met him, and my mom has never told me anything about him.” 

“Oh,” he said, and Cheri looked at him again, confused. “I guess that’s… that’s better than him being… dead?” 

“Well, I don’t know that he  _ isn’t _ dead,” Cheri said, the corner of her mouth lifted in amusement. 

“He’s white, though?” She nodded, and Peter leaned back against the couch. “Huh.”

“She must’ve known him pretty well,” Cheri murmured after a few seconds. “This necklace isn’t… I mean. It’s expensive. It’s real gold, real diamonds.” 

Peter blinked. “That’s… that does imply a pretty serious relationship,” he agreed, and Cheri nodded. “What do you think happened?” 

“I don’t know,” Cheri said, softly. “I’ve… I try not to think about it too much, because my mom’s never going to tell me.” She lifted her shoulders. “I’ve gone back and forth between him having been one of her colleagues at MIT to him just being some dude that liked to give his dates expensive gifts.” 

Peter frowned a little. “Sucks,” he said, and Cheri shrugged again. “You’d like to know who he is, right?” 

“I’d like to know  _ anything _ about him,” Cheri responded. “Aside from the fact that he’s white. I - it’s like I’m missing half of who I am, you know?” He nodded, and she exhaled a heavy breath. “Whatever. I stopped trying years ago. She’ll never tell me, and my  _ abuela’s _ no better.”

“I guess they must have a reason,” Peter said, and Cheri did not reply. He hesitated a moment, and then said, “I - I was pretty little, when my parents died, so I don’t… I don’t really remember them.” He forced a smile. “I think I’ve got you beat.”

“Peter -”

“Yeah, no, that’s not… that was bad. I just… I try to pretend that it doesn’t bother me, when it does, but it isn’t like I’m - I had my uncle and aunt, and they’re… I love them. My aunt pretty much raised me on her own, like I told you before.” He let out a breath. “Anyway, this conversation sucked. I’m sorry I started it.”

“No, it - you were right, to be curious,” Cheri said, quietly. “I just… I don’t mention my dad because I technically don’t have one. Now you know.”

“Now I know,” Peter agreed, his own voice lowered. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Cheri said. “Seriously.” 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Peter wishing that he had something else to say that wouldn’t come out horrible. Eventually, as he turned to speak, to ask if maybe she wanted to stay and watch a movie or something, Cheri stood, slipping the strap of her bag over her shoulder. 

“I should probably get going,” she said. 

“Right, it’ll get dark soon,” Peter said, standing as well. “Uh -”

“Oh, actually, I’m not going home,” Cheri replied. “I have a date.”

Peter’s stomach dove down to his feet. “Really?” he asked, voice cracking a little, and Cheri nodded. “Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool. That’s… super cool.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling. “His name is Jake. He’s actually in the musical with me. He actually plays, uh, Anastasia’s dad, the tsar?”

“That’s… that’s really… cool,” Peter said again, lamely. He wondered, very briefly, if this was her idea of an April Fool’s Day joke, but knew pretty much immediately that was just wishful thinking on his part. “Uh… what’re you doing?”

“He asked me to meet him at a restaurant,” Cheri answered. “I’m supposed to dress nice, apparently.” She rolled her eyes. “Which sucks. I hate fancy restaurants. Harry tried to take me to, like, eight of them, when we were dating? Hated every single one.” She sighed. “It’s whatever, though. Jake’s really nice, so I think I can endure one nasty, small serving, fancy meal for him.”

“Mhm, fair assumption,” Peter said. Man, when had it gotten so  _ hot _ in the apartment? “I guess I shouldn’t keep you here, then.”

“Probably not,” Cheri agreed. “But I do like it here.” 

“Then you should… come back,” Peter managed. 

She smirked. “Maybe I will.” She walked towards the front door, Peter following after her. He pulled it open for her, and their eyes met, very briefly. Peter wondered what the cost-benefit of leaning down and kissing her would be. 

Before he could do the calculation, however, she said, “Thanks again, Pete. I’ll see you.”

“Enjoy your date,” Peter replied, turning his gaze away. 

Cheri exited the apartment, and he closed the door again, before leaning heavily against it. A  _ date.  _ What the  _ fuck.  _

_ Y’know… you could follow her.  _

_ No, I cannot, _ he retorted against the thought.  _ That’s weird. _

_ Is it? Don’t you just want to check out this Jake guy, make sure he’s not gonna be… nasty?  _

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, and then he headed for his bedroom, tugging his shirt over his head as he did so. He grabbed his mask on the way out the window, and he crouched on the edge of a building across the street, looking around for Cheri’s Honda. 

He spotted it, just as it was pulling away from the apartment building. As he tailed the car, jogging along between rooftops, he said, “Karen, could you call Ned real quick?” 

“No problem. Calling Ned,” his AI replied, and then the line in his suit rang a few times before Ned answered his phone. 

“What?” he asked tiredly. “I’m busy.”

“I know, sorry,” Peter replied, “but I need you to tell me that I’m not crazy for following Cheri to her date.”

“You’re doing  _ what?” _ Ned exclaimed. Peter could hear several voices shush him on the other end, and then he spoke again, a bit more quietly: “What the  _ fuck _ are you talking about?” 

“Cheri was at the apartment, we were running lines, and then she said she needed to go, because she has a  _ date,” _ Peter responded, narrowly swinging out of the way of a bus that changed its route at the last second. “She says his name is Jake, and he’s the tsar.”

“He’s the tsar of… Russia? They don’t have one of those, anymore,” Ned said. 

“No, Ned, in  _ Anastasia!” _

“Oh, got it!” Ned said, and then he hummed a little. “I  _ really  _ don’t think you should follow her to her date, Peter.”

“I just want to make sure the guy’s not a creep,” Peter replied. 

“Cheri’s eighteen,” Ned said. “I think she can tell for herself. And besides, it isn’t like this’ll be the first guy she’s ever dated.”

Peter sighed, and settled down in a squat on a rooftop as Cheri paused at a red light. “I know,” he admitted. “Just -”

“You’re jealous,” Ned concluded for him. “And you want to see what this guy has that you don’t.”

“No, that isn’t it,” Peter said at once. “I already decided that Cheri and I are better as friends.”

“Right,” Ned said, slowly. “Because I believe  _ that.” _ Peter rolled his eyes, and Ned continued: “Go back to the apartment. If you want, you can ask her how it went tomorrow. But don’t be a weirdo who follows her to her date! That’s, like, stalkerish, dude.”

Peter watched as the light turned green, and Cheri’s car passed beneath it, on down the street. He then let his head hang. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I guess you’re right.”

The hair on the back of his neck shot up, and an instant later, so did his head. “No!” he shouted, and then car brakes were squealing, horns were blaring, and metal crashed against metal. “Fuck, Cheri!” 

“What happened, what’s going on?” Ned asked frantically, but Peter was quickly descending to the street below, too busy to answer. “Peter!” 

“Car accident, gotta go,” Peter answered. “Karen, end call.”

“Peter -!” Ned’s voice cut off as Peter landed on the street, on top of the car that had been knocked sideways. He quickly pulled the doors off of it, and then helped the person behind the wheel out. Their head hung limply, and he set them down gently on the ground a safe distance away. 

“Spider-Man!” someone called, and he spun in that direction. A passerby was pointing to the other car involved in the accident. The front end had been destroyed, but that wasn’t what drew his attention. It was Cheri, who was currently, frantically, trying to get the door to the car open. 

“Hey, hey!” Peter exclaimed, racing over to where she was. “Ma’am, step back,” he said, moving in front of her and brushing her backwards with a wave of his arm. He then shot a web at the door, gave it a solid yank. The door flew off of the car, and there was Cheri again, moving in and helping the driver out. 

“The back seat!” she said over her shoulder, and Peter realized the child he could hear crying was inside the car. He quickly reached into the back seat, unbuckled the kid’s booster chair. The kid latched her arms around his neck, and Peter jumped backwards from the car, his senses flaring. A moment later, it burst into flames.

“Amy,” the driver Cheri had helped away from the car said, drowsily. 

“Easy, ma’am,” Cheri advised from where she squatted on the ground next to her. “You probably have a concussion. You need to stay still. Your daughter is safe.”

“Mommy!” Amy wailed from Peter’s arms. He grunted, sitting up again, propping the kid up in his lap. Cheri looked over at him, a smile on her face. 

“Glad you were nearby, Spider-Man,” she said. 

“Yeah, well, gotta take a break from stopping drug deals and bank robberies sometimes,” he replied, his heart attempting to hike its way up into his throat. He could hear ambulance and firetruck sirens blaring in the distance, and he handed the child off to an older, grandmother-type woman, who the kid latched onto with no problem. Standing, he said, “Gotta head out. Thanks for the assist. That was super brave of you.”

“That was all you,” Cheri responded, standing as well. “We’re lucky to have you around.”

Peter managed to keep breathing, despite how quickly his heart was thudding away in his chest. He could hear the pulse in his ears. The sirens were getting louder, too, however. 

“Yeah,” he finally said, and then he shot a web at a building. “Hope this didn’t ruin any plans you had!” he called as he zipped away. 

Cheri watched him go, as an ambulance finally pulled up to the scene, a firetruck right behind it. Her shoulders fell, and she turned, almost running into an old man who’d approached. He was wearing aviators, despite the fact that the sun was basically set, and also gazing after Spider-Man. 

_ Peter. _

“Pretty impressive, the things he does,” the old man said. 

“Yeah,” Cheri agreed. 

“And he liked you,” the old man continued, looking at her. He grinned. “I know these things.”

“Right,” she said, carefully, eyeing him. “I should… go.” She slipped around him, and walked towards her car, pulling out her cell phone. She sent a text to Jake, and then, for laughs, another to Peter. She got a response from Jake instantaneously, but didn’t get one from Peter until after she’d finished giving a statement to a police officer, and was climbing into her car. 

> _ Peter: Scary. You’re okay, though? _
> 
> _ Me: Yeah, I’m fine. Spider-Man seems like a cool guy.  _
> 
> _ Peter: Well, duh, he is a superhero.  _

Cheri smiled to herself. 

> _ Peter: Are you still going on your date?  _
> 
> _ Me: I mean, I have to, right, since it’s an expensive place? Although I’d rather just head home. Car accidents are a lot, even if you aren’t part of it.  _
> 
> _ Peter: Yeah, I mean, it’s gotta be pretty traumatic to even witness one.  _
> 
> _ Me: Eh. I’ll deal with it. Talk to you later, Queens.  _

She slid her phone into her bag again, and exhaled, starting her car. He was really good at pretending not to be Spider-Man. She supposed he had a lot of experience with it now, though. 

**April 2nd, 2021 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, USA**

“So, walk me through it again,” Ned said. “You had one of your senses things happen even though you weren’t the one in danger?” 

Peter nodded from where he sat on the couch, gazing blankly at the screen of his laptop. He was meant to be working on a paper, but any thoughts of that had disappeared as soon as Ned had entered the room, and Peter had let the whole story of what had happened the night before spill out of him. 

“That’s never happened before?” Ned queried. Peter shook his head. “Do you… I mean. Does it have something to do with Cheri?” 

“I don’t  _ know,  _ Ned!” Peter said, leaning his head backwards against the couch cushion. “That’s why I’m so confused! Why would I be able to sense bad things for Cheri, when I’ve never sensed them when it came to someone like you, or May?” 

“Well… when has something like a car accident ever happened to me or May?” Ned asked after a moment. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean that nothing super seriously bad has ever happened to either one of us,” Ned responded. “There was that time I almost fell down the stairs, but you caught me before I could. I just assumed it was because you’d seen me trip over that textbook someone had left in the way, but… maybe it was because you  _ had _ sensed it coming? And just didn’t realize it because you were so used to sensing things all the time when it came to you? And you’re only just  _ now _ realizing it happened because it’s  _ Cheri,  _ and it was a car accident that was, like, one hundred yards from where you were.” 

Peter stared at him for a moment. “So basically, the things I’ve sensed when it comes to other people I care about have been so miniscule that I didn’t even notice?” he clarified. Ned nodded. “And this car accident was  _ big, _ so I  _ did _ recognize it, and now I’m blowing it out of proportion because it’s Cheri, and there’s literally no reason for me to be sensing bad stuff when it comes to Cheri because I do not have the same emotional attachment to her that I have to you and May.” He sighed heavily. “So, we still have a problem.”

“God, Peter, there’s  _ no problem,” _ Ned said, exasperated. Peter looked sideways at him. 

“Explain.”

Ned rolled his eyes. “I know that you’re in super denial about how much you like Cheri, but the fact of the matter, dude, is that you’re, like, head-over-heels for her,” he told his friend. “Which is awesome.”

“I’m not head-over-heels for Cheri,” Peter retorted. “I decided that we’re better as friends.”

“But you don’t  _ feel _ that way!” Ned exclaimed. “And you know that you don’t. I think the fact that you sensed danger near her basically proves that. It’s different than the attachment you have to May and me. You sensed the danger for her even though she wasn’t even directly involved in it. Just the _ idea _ made your thing go nuts.”

“You don’t make any sense,” Peter said. 

“Peter, I’m trying to tell you that you’re in love with Cheri.”

“But I’m  _ not.” _

“Obviously you must be. Or at least, everything else aside from your big, stubborn brain thinks that you are,” Ned answered. “Everything that  _ matters.”  _ Peter scoffed a little, and turned away. Ned sighed in exasperation. “Fine, forget it, then,” he said. “Just trying to come up with a logical explanation, that’s all.”

“Ned, there’s literally nothing logical about _ anything _ when it comes to my powers,” Peter told him. 

“Yeah, but, when thinking about patterns and stuff -”

Peter sighed impatiently. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” His phone buzzed, and the text he’d received appeared in the corner of his laptop’s screen. 

> _ Cheri: My date sucked.  _
> 
> _ Me: Oh. That sucks?  _
> 
> _ Cheri: I mean, yeah, a little, ‘cause Jake’s really nice. I guess it might have mostly been my fault? I wasn’t really in the mood after the accident. _
> 
> _ Me: Well, he can’t fault you for that, right?  _

Peter hesitated a moment before forcing himself to type, 

> _ Me: And like. You could always give it another shot, when you aren’t, y’know, not in the mood.  _

She did not respond at first, and Peter watched the screen of his laptop in worry. Was that bad of him, to suggest she give it a second try, after she’d said that the first date had sucked? Maybe that wasn’t the response she’d been looking for. Maybe she wanted his support in dropping the guy. 

_ Shit shit shit shit shit.  _

> _ Cheri: Yeah, maybe. If we do a second date, though, hopefully he’ll let me pick the restaurant, lol.  _

Peter let out a slow breath. 

> _ Me: Hah, yeah, that’d probably help.  _

When he looked away from his laptop, he noticed Ned watching him, and he made a face. “What?”

“I just… pity you, I guess,” Ned admitted, shaking his head and turning away. 

Peter sighed to himself, wondering if maybe he should pity himself, too. 


	10. Dinner and Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter takes Cheri out to dinner, and she expresses some concerns about their mutual friend, which, Peter is dismayed to learn, are a lot more warranted than he'd like them to be.

**April 21st, 2021 - Empire State University, Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

Peter stuck his head around the corner of the hall leading into the auditorium where theater was rehearsing the musical. He could hear music playing, so clearly, they were right in the middle of a scene, but a couple of kids he’d run into in the lobby had said that he could go into the auditorium, so he’d done so. 

Now, he crept fully into the darkened room, and sank down into a seat near the back, eyes on the stage. It became very clear to him that this rehearsal was also being dedicated to making sure that the lights and things were being run properly throughout the show. On stage, he could see the hard work of the stage crew in the background they’d created, which was the painted scene of a forest road. Standing in the center of the stage was Cheri; she was not wearing a costume, but Peter could tell that she was deep in her character. 

She was also in the middle of a song, much to Peter’s delight. He sat up a bit to pay more attention. 

_ “Somewhere down this road, _   
_ I know someone’s waiting. _ _   
Years of dreams just can’t be wrong._

_ “Arms will open wide. _   
_ I’ll be safe and wanted _ _   
Finally home where I belong. _

_ “Well starting now I’m learning fast _ _   
_ _ On this journey to the past.” _

Cheri’s singing was paired by movement that kept the stage interesting to watch, even while listening to her. Peter could see her expression change, as there was a shift in the music, too. 

_ “Home, love, family. _   
_ There was once a time I must have had them too. _   
_ Home, love, family. _ _   
I will never be complete until I find you.” _

She spun in a circle as the music swelled. Peter grinned. 

_ “One step at a time, _   
_ One hope, then another. _ _   
Who knows where this road may go?_

_ “Back to who I was, _   
_ On to find my future. _ _   
Things my heart still needs to know!”_

She jumped a little in the air, smiling widely as she continued to sing. 

_ “Yes! _   
_ Let this be a sign. _ _   
Let this road be mine. _

_ “Let it lead me to my past. _   
_ And bring me home… _ _   
At last!” _

Cheri held the final note, pretty impressively, raising her arms with the music, which held out for maybe fifteen seconds, ending with a final flourish in which Cheri tossed her head back and closed her fists in a stance of victory. The lights on the stage went out, but immediately came back up, and Peter very sheepishly lowered his hands to his lap. He’d wanted to clap, but clearly that wasn’t appropriate in this particular setting. 

“That was good,” he heard a familiar voice say, and realized that it was the head of the Walker School, Doctor Ward. He was seated further ahead in the house, and he held up a thumb in the direction of the box over Peter’s head, where the lights and music were being run from. “I think we can call it for tonight. Nice job, everyone. I’ll see you tomorrow; we’ll jump right into Act 2.”

Cheri took a seat on the edge of the stage, tugging her phone out of her pocket. Several more actors shuffled into the open from backstage, talking with one another. Peter started to walk towards the stage himself, but paused when he noticed one kid approach Cheri, hands in his pockets. He was a good looking guy, tall, nice hair. 

“Hey,” Peter heard him say, and Cheri glanced up at him, smiling a little. Peter thought the expression was one of patience, rather than actual pleasure at seeing this person. 

“Hey, Jake.”

“So… we’re getting out a little earlier than normal,” Jake said, and Peter’s stomach lurched. He knew where this was going. “Do you maybe want to get something to eat?” 

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck, _ Peter thought, ashamed of himself. What had he been thinking? Even if he’d been on campus later than usual, and had decided to pop in on Cheri’s rehearsal, that didn’t mean she was automatically obligated to go get food or something with him. She didn’t even know he was there. 

But she’d been so busy lately. He’d thought he’d try his luck, and that was mostly what he was doing there in the first place. He'd only wanted to see if they could get food. Clearly, he’d moved too slowly, and if this was the Jake guy she’d gone on that date with, there was no way she’d say no.

He took one step backwards, and then another, sighing a little. Maybe he could try again tomorrow. 

“Queens? That you?” He stopped halfway in his turn, and looked back towards the stage. Cheri had hopped down from it, and was jogging up the aisle between two sections of seats towards him, smiling. “Hey,” she said, stopping in front of him. “What’re you doing here?” 

Peter blinked a few times, before reminding himself that he needed to speak. “I uh - I had a late meeting with my adviser, and I wanted… I mean, I knew you were here rehearsing, and it’s been a minute since we saw one another in person, and I thought you might want to… get food?” He gestured vaguely towards the stage. “That was great, by the way. The song.”

Her smile had grown significantly throughout his explanation as to why he was there, but now she glanced down, almost like she was embarrassed, but how could she be? Didn’t she know how good she’d been?

“Thanks,” she said, and then looked up at him again. “Food’s a great idea.”

“Oh. Good.” He peered past her, towards the stage. “Just. I saw you talking to that guy.”

“Jake? Oh.” Cheri blew a raspberry. “The one I went on that date with. I gave it another try, considering the circumstances surrounding the first one that, like, put me in a mood not necessarily built for feeling out someone on a date, but... the second one wasn't much better, to be honest." She sighed a little. "He’s been wanting to take me out again, but I just don’t really want to lead him on, y’know?” 

Relief flooded through Peter from head to toe, which he hated. “Oh. Well. I guess that’s nice of you. In a kind of mean way.”

She smiled again. “Yeah, it’s always hard to turn someone down,” she said. “Let me just grab my bag and we can go?” 

“Sure,” he agreed, and watched her walk back towards the stage. He noticed Jake watch her, then look towards Peter, before he shook his head and ducked backstage. Peter tried not to feel too haughty about that. In fact, he felt kind of bad; it was clear that Jake really liked Cheri, but it wasn’t Peter’s fault if she didn’t like him back. 

Cheri returned a moment later, slinging her bag over her shoulder. The keychain he’d bought her for her birthday swung merrily from a zipper. “Ready?” she asked, smiling still, and Peter nodded. 

“Lead the way.”

They walked out of the theater, which was its own building on campus, and Cheri started to head in the direction of her parked car. 

“Oh, uh.” She paused, and looked at him. Peter lifted his shoulders. “I just figured we’d walk somewhere?” 

“Sure,” she said, amicable. “You already have a place in mind, I’m guessing? Since you know I won’t walk further than five blocks?” 

Peter smiled a little. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “There’s plenty of choices with five blocks. You in the mood for burgers, Cajun, or do you just want to go to the deli?” 

She considered it for a moment. “The deli’s fine,” she said. “If you’re okay with it.”

“Totally,” Peter replied. “Let’s go.”

They walked the single block to their deli of choice, where they ordered their sandwiches of choice, and then sank down at a table in the corner of the small shop to eat. They spent a few minutes catching up on things they hadn't talked about over text, which really wasn't much. They texted a lot, Peter realized. It was kind of weird. 

“You really thought the song was good?” Cheri asked at one point, and Peter glanced up from his half-finished sandwich to see she was watching him, hopeful. 

“Yeah, it was awesome,” he told her. “Why, didn’t you… feel good about it?” 

Cheri blew out a breath. “I dunno,” she said, picking at the crust of her own sandwich. “Sometimes I feel kind of pitch-y.” She glanced up at him. “But I guess if you didn’t notice, then I shouldn’t worry about it.”

“Yeah, I’m a pretty good test subject.” When he saw Cheri’s eyebrow raise, he added, a little uncertainly, “Because… I’m… not musically inclined, and I imagine most of the audience who's going to come see the musical isn’t going to be, either.”

Her expression relaxed, and so did Peter’s shoulders. “Right, that makes sense,” she agreed, and picked up her sandwich again. 

Conversation shifted. Cheri wanted to know if Ned had gotten a grade back on some paper that she’d helped him with. Peter hadn’t even known he’d _ had _ a paper, so he couldn’t tell her. She shrugged, and said she could just text him about it. 

Then she asked about Harry. “He’s kind of been… distant, lately,” she explained. “I text him, and his replies are, like, bored? Distracted? I don’t know, it’s like he doesn’t want to be talking to me, and I’m kind of worried, because the last time he got like this, it was because he’d had a bad trip to the doctor.”

Peter frowned to himself. He hadn’t noticed anything off about Harry, lately, but he also hadn’t seen much of Harry, lately. When he was home, he was spending a lot of time in his room, “Working on school stuff.” Otherwise, he was spending long hours on campus, “Working on school stuff.” Peter wondered, now, if that was just an excuse, to keep himself distanced from Peter and Ned, because he knew they’d notice something was wrong.

“Shit,” he sighed. “I - he’s been spending a lot more time on campus, recently. I just thought he was working on a project or something.” He shook his head. “He’s probably been distancing himself, though.” 

Cheri exhaled a breath. “I’ll talk to him,” she said, quietly. “Maybe I can convince him to hang out with me this weekend.” She looked at Peter. “Just keep an eye on him when you can, okay? I worry about him, and he hates that I do, which, like, mood, but also… he needs someone to worry about him.”

Peter nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “I’ll do my best, all right?” 

Cheri smiled a little. “Thanks, Pete,” she said, and she reached across the table, resting her hand on his wrist for a moment. The small touch, paired with the soft look she was giving him, sent bolts of electricity up his arm and into his chest. “I appreciate it. I know that he means a lot to you, too.”

“Yeah,” Peter managed. “He does.”

Cheri pulled her hand back, and he let out a slow, silent breath, studying his food, which was mostly gone, now, thankfully.

They finished up, and dumped their trash, before ducking outside to head back to campus. Peter walked Cheri to her car, and she offered to drive him to the apartment, but he declined. “I don’t mind the walk,” he said. 

“Are you sure?” she asked, frowning. “It’s pretty late.”

He smiled. “It’s like a five minute walk,” he said. “I’ll be okay.” 

She made a face. Unlocking her car, she looked over at him, an eyebrow cocked. “You avoiding me, Queens?” 

“Absolutely that’s what I’m doing,” he said immediately. “Even though I just had dinner with you, I am most definitely avoiding you.” He slid his hands into his pockets. “No, I just don’t want to feel obligated to pay you gas money for the four minute ride to my apartment.”

Cheri snorted. “I would not make you pay me gas money, since I’m the one worrying about you walking on your own.”

“I make the walk plenty during the day,” he said. 

“I know. But that’s during the day.”

Peter thought about the suit that he was currently wearing beneath his clothes, of the web shooters he wore on both wrists. “I’ll be fine,” he assured. “Seriously.”

“All right,” she said after a moment. “I guess I’ll see you later, then.” She opened the door, and started to climb in behind the wheel, but hesitated, and looked at him again. “Text me, okay?” 

Peter nodded. “Sure.”

Cheri nodded back, and finally slid into her car. She started it up, closing the door, and lifted a hand to him. He waved back, and watched her pull away. He then let out a breath of air, tightened the straps of his backpack, and started for home, glad he’d been able to see her, but now worrying about Harry. He hoped that his friend was at the apartment, so that Peter could talk to him. 

**April 22nd, 2021 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

Harry wasn’t home, not when Peter got there, but he was able to catch his friend the following morning, before Harry could leave for campus, where he’d no doubt stay for the entirety of the day.

“Morning,” Peter said, looking over the back of the couch in the front room as Harry walked out of the hall, already wearing his backpack. Harry paused, and glanced at him. 

“Hey,” he said, blinking. He looked just the tiniest bit startled. “Uh. You’re up earlier than usual.”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Peter said, deciding to just come out with it. Harry was easier to talk to when the person speaking to him was being direct, because it invited Harry to be direct right back. “I saw Cheri last night. She said you’ve been… distant lately.” 

Harry rolled his eyes upwards. “I bet,” he said, and then he shook his head “It’s nothing, Peter. You know I’ve been busy with school stuff.”

“Right,” Peter said. He stood up, and walked around the couch, leaning back against it. “But there’s more to it than that, right?” Harry did not respond, and Peter tilted his head. “How did your visit to the doctor go, last week?” 

“Peter -”

“Cheri said that you get like this, when you get bad news back,” Peter went on. “She’s worried, and I think she probably has a right to be, especially by now. She knows you. I don’t, as well as she does, but I am around you more, and… I’m worried, too. What’s going on?” 

“Nothing new,” Harry murmured after a moment. He shrugged one shoulder, sniffling. “They changed my medication again, and it’s… one of the side effects is, like, depression, I guess.”

Peter frowned. “Harry.”

His friend exhaled a breath. “All right, it’s not just that,” he said. “The doc thinks that I might be getting worse. Apparently my levels are higher than they were. He says it might be stress, but he’s pretty sure it’s… y’know. Speeding up.” He finally looked at Peter. “I’m just tired of going to the doctor, and hearing I’m going to die over and over again, you know? I almost wish it would just fucking happen, already.”

“Harry -”

“I know that’s an awful thing to say, but it’s the truth,” Harry said, lifting his shoulders. “At least then it’d be over and done with.” He glanced at his watch, which Peter thought looked absurdly big on his thin wrist. “I have to go.”

“Harry, wait,” Peter said, sighing, and he did, pausing right in front of the door. “Have you talked to your dad about this?”

“The hell am I supposed to say to him?” Harry asked, looking back. “I mean, he knows I’m dying, and he knows I’m going to keep dying. There’s nothing new to say, other than that I’m dying a bit quicker, now.” Peter gazed at him, wishing that there was more for him to say, but coming up empty. Harry offered him a sad smile. “It’s how it’s always been, Peter. You don’t need to say anything; believe me, I’ve heard it all.” He opened the front door. “I’ll see you.”

He stepped outside, closing the door behind him. Peter hung his head, eyes falling shut. It may be how it’s always been, but that did not mean Peter didn’t wish there was something he could do. In reality, however, he knew that there was nothing. Harry was sick. That was all there was to it. Well wishes wouldn’t help him get better, and that was really all Peter had to offer.

He could at least look out for him, though, as Cheri had asked, and he planned to do so. The last thing he wanted was for Harry to decide to take speeding things up into his own hands. 


	11. Find A Way Peter Parker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a performance, Peter kind of meets Cheri's mom. It's a whole thing.

**May 14th, 2021 - Empire State University - Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

"If you really _are_ Anastasia, do you think history wants you to have lived?"

"Yes. Why don't you?"

"The Romanovs were given _everything,_ and gave back _nothing,_ until the Russian people rose up and destroyed them!" 

"All but one." A pause. “Finish it.” Peter watched as Cheri spread her arms, facing the kid who was acting opposite her in this particular scene. “I am my father’s daughter.” 

“And I am my father’s son!” the kid barked back. Peter actually flinched a bit when he lifted the fake revolver he held, and cocked it. “Finish it I must.”

“Jesus,” Peter muttered under his breath as music kicked in, and the kid began to sing. Peter had known the basic plot of the musical, after helping Cheri learn her lines, but seeing it actually being acted out in front of him the way it was… it was really intense. He had to give the actors credit.

Cheri circled in front of the other kid, speaking her next line: “In me you see them. Look at their faces in mine; hear their screams, imagine their terror, see their  _ blood.” _

Okay. Peter didn’t like this scene, he decided. His senses were going all sorts of nuts, seeing Cheri faced with a gun, even knowing it was fake. He almost felt like he needed to get up and leave the auditorium, at least until this scene was over, but something kept him in his seat, watching it progress. 

“Do it!” Cheri exclaimed. “And I will be with my parents, and my brother, and sisters in that cellar in Yekaterinburg all over again!” 

The music continued, the other kid sang (he was a very good singer): 

_"The children, their voices  
A man makes painful choices  
He does what's necessary, Anya!_

_"For Russia, my beauty  
What choice but simple duty?  
We have a past to bury, Anya..."_

The ensemble came in with a different set of lyrics while the kid sustained his final note, but Peter was watching Cheri. He could see her face from where he sat in the audience, could see the genuine fear there as she backed away from the other actor. In the background of the scene, the kids who played Anastasia’s family moved backwards in tandem with her, two other actors holding rifles walking forward. The whole scene was a poignant visual of past and present, and Peter’s heart accelerated as the music suddenly cut. 

“For the last time, who are you?” the other actor demanded, and Cheri lifted her chin. 

“I am… the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanov,” she said, eyes flashing, as she walked closer to where he stood. 

_ “Be careful what a dream may bring,” _ the kid sang, and he lifted the gun, moving towards her.  _ “A revolution is a simple -” _

The music cut out, and so did his voice. There was a very tense moment where the gun remained in the air, trained directly at Cheri’s forehead, but then the actor opposite her sagged, the gun falling. “I can’t,” he murmured, the mic picking up the words clearly as a quieter, more reserved chord progression played. “I can’t.”

Peter relaxed in his seat, breathing outwards. Next to him, he could hear Ned snickering under his breath, and he refrained from clapping a hand over his friend’s mouth as the scene continued. 

Eventually, the show ended, but only after Peter experienced an inane sense of jealousy seeing Cheri kiss the kid who was playing Anya’s love interest Dimitri. The audience gave the cast a standing ovation, and someone actually wolf-whistled when Cheri stepped forward for her solo bow. She was beaming, Peter saw, and his heart swelled seeing it. Finally, she’d received a part that she deserved, and she’d fucking  _ killed it, _ just like he’d known she would. 

After the curtain had swung closed, he, Ned, and Harry made their way to the front lobby with the rest of the audience, and found the cast already there, waiting to greet them. All three of them immediately ran towards Cheri, but had to wait a second as an excited middle schooler beat them to her, holding out the playbill that they’d all been supplied on entrance to the auditorium. 

Cheri signed it, smiling the whole time, and Peter’s heart melted. He quickly took a picture of her with the little kid, not really knowing why, but believing it to be a necessary moment that needed to be captured. 

Finally, she was left alone, and they were able to bombard her, Ned and Harry speaking excitedly at once, Cheri looking between the two of them, amused. 

“Thanks, guys,” she said when they finally fell silent. “I’m glad you liked it.” Her eyes found Peter, and her smile softened a little. “Thank you, Pete. It - I’d forgotten what performing for people was like, and if you hadn’t convinced me to audition, I wouldn’t -”

“Hey, what you just did on stage?” Peter began. “That’s all I needed to see, to know that I did the right thing. You were incredible. The whole show was incredible.”

She glanced downwards for a moment. “Thanks,” she said again, more quietly. 

“There you are!” A woman who looked remarkably like Cheri walked up to them, and gave Cheri a hug. Cheri grinned at her in response when she pulled back. 

“ _ Hola, Máma,” _ she said, her voice lilting. “Did you like it?”

“It was amazing,  _ mija,”  _ the woman, Cheri’s mother, told her. She then turned to look at the three boys, an eyebrow lifting. “Hm, Harry.”

“Isabel,” Harry returned, grinning at her. “Good to see you.”

“You too.” Isabel’s eyes drifted to Peter and Ned. “And these are the other ones?”

“Yes,” Cheri said, with a sigh. “Peter and Ned. This is my mom, Isabel.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Peter said, offering her his hand to shake. She did so, after a moment, and then turned to Cheri again. 

“I’m proud of you,” she said. “I’ll see you at home?” Cheri nodded, and Isabel placed a kiss on her forehead, before disappearing back into the crowd. Peter was still amazed by how closely they resembled one another. 

More fans approached, wanting to take pictures with her and get her autograph, and the Dimitri actor was tugged into the fray as well. Peter was pushed backwards in the surge, and he managed to lose track of Ned and Harry along the way. Carefully, he migrated to the doors of the auditorium, and pushed his way outside into the night. The air was cool, unsurprising for early May, and he inhaled a little, letting his eyes fall closed. 

He was unaware of time passing as he stood there, listening to people leave the auditorium, chatting about the show as they went. Everything they had to say that he heard was positive, and he smiled a little to himself, positive that the show wouldn’t have been nearly as good without the energy that Cheri had brought to it, as the title character. 

“There you are.” His eyes opened, and he saw Ned and Harry walking towards him. Harry was shivering, a little, but he was grinning. “We’ve been trying to find you. Cheri’s still swarmed by adoring fans, so we’re gonna head home.”

“All right,” Peter said. “Uh…” He glanced around for a moment, debating with himself, before making up his mind and turning back to his friends. “I think I’m gonna hang out for a bit longer.”

“You sure?” Ned asked, lifting an eyebrow, and Peter nodded. 

“I might stop by the library. I sent in a 3D print order, a few days ago, and never got, like, a confirmation, so I should probably check on that.” 

Ned and Harry exchanged a knowing glance, before Harry shrugged. “All right dude, it’s your choice. Just be careful walking home, all right?” 

“Yeah, definitely,” Peter assured, smiling a little. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Harry and Ned walked away from him, nudging one another as they went. Peter pretended not to notice. 

He did not go to the library to check on a 3D print order, because he  _ had _ gotten a confirmation for the order, and it wouldn’t be ready until the following Monday. Instead, he lingered outside, watching as the last of the audience trickled out of the auditorium. There was a break, then, presumably as cast members got changed and cleaned whatever makeup they could off of their faces. 

After about a half-hour, though, Peter heard voices, and he straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the wall. He easily caught sight of Cheri as a group of cast members walked out of the auditorium, laughing together and talking about plans to go get pizza. 

Peter blinked. Duh. Of course they were planning on going for celebratory pizza. They’d just kicked ass on their opening night. Had he really hung around thinking that he could ask Cheri if she wanted to go get ice cream or something? He was an idiot. 

He was about to walk away, thankful for the shadows of the building that had so far kept him from being noticed, but then, for seemingly no reason at all, Cheri glanced towards where he stood. He saw her eyes widen, when she noticed him, and she cocked her head to the side, clearly in question. 

Peter hesitated a moment, before shaking his head, a silent suggestion for her to pretend that she hadn’t noticed him, to go out for pizza with her fellow cast mates. After all, she was the lead; it probably would’ve been in bad form for her not to go. 

She gazed at him for a second longer, before she turned to the others that were standing in the group. “Give me a second?” she said, and they agreed amicably enough, going back to chatting excitedly with one another. Cheri broke away from them, and jogged over to where Peter was. 

“Hey,” she said, smiling. “You hanging around for an encore or what?”

He smiled back, and shrugged. “No, just - I don’t know. I was gonna ask if you wanted to get ice cream or something, but I should’ve known you’d want to go out with the rest of the cast.” He nodded towards them. “Everybody killed it, again. Think it’ll be just as good tomorrow?”

Cheri laughed. “It might be better,” she said. 

“Guess I’ll have to come and watch to see for myself, huh?” Peter asked, and she lifted her shoulders. 

“Maybe.” She glanced towards her cast mates for a moment, and then she looked at him. “Maybe we could do ice cream tomorrow, then. If you do come.”

“I was just kidding about maybe not coming, you know,” Peter said, quickly, and Cheri grinned. 

“I was kidding, about saying you maybe wouldn’t come tomorrow, too.”

“Oh.” He laughed, once, and scratched the back of his head. “Yeah. Uh. I’ll definitely come.”

“And you’ll buy me ice cream?” 

“Yes,” Peter assured. 

She smiled. “Cool.”

“Cheri, you coming or what?” one of her cast mates shouted. 

“Yeah!” she called back, and then she turned to him again. “Thanks again, Peter, really.” 

“Hey, it -” He cut himself off, and tried again. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m - you were clearly made to perform, so I was glad to do the world a service, Grand Duchess.” 

Her smile widened, and she quickly hugged him around the middle before jogging back towards her cast mates, calling, “I’ll see you tomorrow!” over her shoulder. 

Peter watched until they were out of sight, before his shoulders fell, and he let out a breath of air, smiling to himself. He then set off for home, already thinking about whether or not he was obligated to ask Ned and Harry if they wanted to join the two of them for ice cream after the next evening’s show. 


	12. The End of the Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys and Cheri have finished their sophomore and freshman years of college, respectfully. It's time to celebrate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You remember when I wasn't posting these in chronological order and then I started to? Yeah.

**June 9th, 2021 - Empire State University - Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“You did it!” Harry said, straightening up from the wall of the Walker School of Arts building and joining Cheri as she pushed her way outside. “You beat your first year of college.”

“I want to die,” Cheri muttered in response, tugging the strap of her bag onto her shoulder. “Fuck, that exam  _ sucked ass.” _

Harry grinned at her, and slung an arm around her shoulders as they stumbled down the stone steps leading up to the building. “But you did it,” he said again. “It’s over, now. Aren’t you proud of yourself?” 

“Maybe I will be when I know I didn’t fail,” Cheri sighed, pushing him off. “Get away from me, it’s too hot to be that close to another person.” She glanced around. “What are you doing here, anyway? Didn’t you have all your finals yesterday and Monday?” 

“I thought you might want to go for a celebratory something or other,” Harry replied with a shrug. “Maybe not, though, considering. You sound like you could use a nap instead.”

“I’d love to take a nap,” Cheri said, her eyes closing as she thought of falling into a bed, head on a pillow, window open and a breeze blowing in through it. After a moment, she forced them open again. “But I don’t want to go home.”

Harry frowned a little. “Why not?” 

Cheri sighed. “My mom’s been kind of… I don’t know. Let’s just say that she isn’t my biggest fan at the moment, I guess.” She shrugged her shoulders after a moment of silence. “It’s no big deal.” She looked at him again. “Do you mind if I come over for a bit?” 

“No,” Harry said, “and I don’t think Ned or Peter will mind, either.” He gestured with his head. “C’mon, you can drive us over there like you’re an Uber or something.”

“I’d much rather be a Lyft driver,” Cheri said, smiling a bit and following him towards where he knew she liked to park, whenever she could get a spot. 

They drove to his apartment building, which took maybe ten minutes in the early afternoon traffic of the city, and Cheri parked parallel to the building across the street. Harry led the way into the building and up the stairs to the Trio’s apartment, unlocking the door with his key. 

“Honeys, I’m home!” he called cheerfully as the door swung open. “And I brought a surprise.” 

“Is it food?” Ned called from down the hall where all the bedrooms were, and Cheri smiled a little to herself, following Harry into the apartment proper. She felt comfortable in the space, having spent quite a lot of time there in recent months thanks to Peter’s help with her role in the musical. It was almost like coming home. 

She blinked. That was a weird way to think about it. 

Peter walked out of the hall, clearly made curious enough by Harry’s statement to come and see what said surprise was. He smiled when he realized it was Cheri. 

“Hey,” he greeted, leaning against the couch. “How’d your finals go?” Cheri merely blew a raspberry in response, and Peter laughed. “Yeah, I feel that.”

“I wanted to celebrate, but she said she wanted to take a nap instead,” Harry explained. “I figured that since we’re closer, she could nap here.” 

“I don’t have to,” Cheri said. “Just - my mom’s kind of been in a mood, lately, and I didn’t really want to go home.” 

“Ah.” Peter shrugged. “Well, you’re always welcome to hang out here, obviously.” He looked over at Harry. “You sharing your bed or what?” 

“I don’t actually need a nap,” Cheri stated, sighing. 

Peter cocked his head to the side, taking her in. It was clear that it was finals week; the light shadows of sleepless, study-filled nights under her eyes were only a single indication of that fact on her face. Peter didn’t need to see more to know that she’d been overworking herself in preparation. 

“You look like you could use one,” he said. 

“I’m all right,” Cheri said. “Really.” She dropped her bag on the floor, and walked around the couch, sinking down onto it. Her eyes fell shut almost at once, and she breathed outwards. “I’m just gonna sit here and not move for maybe an hour.” 

Peter smiled again, and looked over at Harry, who raised his shoulders and disappeared down the hall. Peter glanced back at Cheri for a moment, before deciding to leave her alone. She clearly did need the rest, even if she insisted that she did not. A doze on the couch would be much more fulfilling if there was no noise in the room. 

Cheri listened as the two boys exited the room, and smiled a little to herself. The generosity astounded her, sometimes. Still, she could hear as Ned stuck his head out of his bedroom, and said, “So… it wasn’t food?”

“No,” Peter replied, his own voice lowered. “Cheri’s taking a nap out in the front room.” 

“Oh, sorry,” Ned said, speaking softly. “Wait, why, though?”

“Apparently she’s having a fight with her mom,” Harry explained. 

“What about?” 

“No idea,” Harry said. “If she wants to tell us, she will, but I’m used to not knowing about things like that when it comes to her.” He ducked into his bedroom, closing the door gently behind him, and Ned glanced at Peter, who lifted his shoulders in response. Snorting, Ned went back into his own room, and after a moment, Peter went into his. He glanced around, uncertain. He felt as though there was something he was meant to be doing, but for the life of him could not think of what that might be. 

As though to remind him, his phone chimed, and he reached for it, examining the text from Tony. 

> _ Tony: What’s the plan for this summer, kid?  _
> 
> _ Me: I don’t know, the same as it’s been since high school? I’ll start coming in on Monday, if that’s all right. _
> 
> _ Tony: Yeah, fine. How’re the other two?  _
> 
> _ Me: As good as can be expected. Ned still has one final to go tomorrow.  _
> 
> _ Tony: Wish him luck, then, and tell him that if he wants a summer job, he could come over to the Tower with you on Monday. We’ll find him something to do.  _
> 
> _ Me: I’ll do that. _
> 
> _ Me: Is there anything else for me to do before then?  _
> 
> _ Tony: Stick to your neighborhood, kid.  _
> 
> _ Me: Yeah. All right.  _

Peter tossed his phone back down onto his desk, and then laid down on his bed, studying the ceiling. It had been a long time since a serious threat had risen up, calling for the action of the Avengers as a group, rather than just one or two of them. For the most part, really, Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes had been taking care of those situations, with Tony or Steve Rogers offering assistance whenever required. For the most part, though, there was nothing big happening, which meant that not everyone was necessary. 

Which, like, that was  _ good, _ Peter knew, because a world without troubles requiring the Avengers was a safe one, but… well. He was kind of bored. He’d always be glad to go around Manhattan, stopping petty thieves and, like, drug deals, but really? He kind of missed being part of bigger action. For a brief period of time after everyone had been brought back to life, there had been a bit of an uprising of terrorists groups all over the country, and he’d helped deal with that, but since then… it’d just been neighborhood stuff. 

Peter missed being an  _ Avenger, _ he supposed. Spider-Man was technically one in title, but he wasn’t involved in stopping any crimes of the Avengers quality. But maybe that was for the best. When it came down to it, he’d always be, first and foremost, the friendly neighborhood hero. That was his niche. 

He sighed a bit, and sat up, brushing a hand through his hair. It was hot in the apartment. Hopefully Cheri wasn’t uncomfortable in the front room. 

Cheri. She was fighting with her mom, according to Harry. Peter had to admit a curiosity about that. From what Cheri had said of her relationship with her mother, the two of them were very close. But maybe that opened the door for more fights than between a typical mother and daughter? Peter would know, not having had a mother to grow up with. Or having been a daughter. 

Maybe he was hungry. But he couldn't make himself food in the kitchen; he’d bother Cheri, and she  _ needed _ some rest. 

_ I could go get something, _ he thought, glancing at his window. Yeah. Maybe that would be good. 

He slipped on some shoes, and crossed the room. He peered out the window to make sure there was no one nearby to see him, and then he climbed through it, dropping the two stories to the ground below. He straightened up, brushing off his shirt, and strolled around to the front of the building, wondering if he should pick up food for the others, too.

* * *

Awhile later, he returned to the apartment, climbing up the stairs like a normal person. He pushed his way inside, not surprised to find the door unlocked. Cheri was sitting up on the couch, reading a book. She glanced over at his entrance, cocking an eyebrow. 

“When the hell did you leave?” she asked, and he shrugged, carrying the bags of takeaway over to the counter in the kitchen. 

“Not long ago,” he said. “You must’ve been conked out.”

Cheri joined him in the kitchen, watching as he pulled out boxes of Chinese and set them down on the counter. “Yeah, guess so,” she said after a moment. 

“You sticking around?” he asked, and gestured to the food. “Plenty here.”

Cheri smiled a little. “I guess,” she said again. “If that’s okay?”

“Fine with me,” Peter said. He licked some orange sauce off of his thumb. “But you gotta use chopsticks.”

“Oh, yeah?” Cheri queried, leaning against the archway. “That a requirement? I’m pretty sure Harry doesn’t even know how to  _ hold _ chopsticks.”

“Uh, I beg to differ,” Harry said, poking his head over Cheri’s. Jealousy burned in Peter’s chest at the casual way he rested his chin on the top of Cheri’s head, and Cheri just let him without complaining. “I’ve been eating with chopsticks since I was five.” He looked at Peter. “When’d you get all this?”

“Just now,” Peter replied. “I was bored.” He opened a box of lo mein. “I got noodles, rice, orange chicken, teriyaki, everything we could ask for. Where’s Ned?”

“Present,  _ mon capitaine,” _ Ned said from the front room. “The smell called to me.” 

Cheri chortled, moving around Harry back out into the front room, and Peter smiled to himself, spooning some rice onto a plate for himself. Harry joined him at the counter, reaching for a plate of his own. “You’re too kind to us, Peter,” he said, and he pressed a wet kiss to Peter’s cheek, which Peter accepted, resigned. 

“I try my best,” he said, shoveling some orange chicken onto his plate as well. “I grabbed, like, eight fortune cookies, too.”

“Ooh, we’ll need to play that game,” Ned said, appearing in the archway. “Y’know, where you read the fortune, and add ‘in bed’ at the end of it?” 

“Juvenile,” Harry said, “but fun. We’ll do that.” 

Peter exited the kitchen, plate full, and paused when he saw that Cheri had sat down on the couch again. She was looking at the TV, even though it was not turned on, and Peter recognized pretty quickly that she was deep in thought about something. He slowly walked over to the couch, and sat down beside her, leaving plenty of space between them. He hadn’t intended to disturb her, but as he sat down, she blinked, and glanced over at him. He saw that the smile she gave him was a bit forced. 

“You okay?” he asked, a little worried, and she nodded. 

“Yeah,” she said. “Just thinking about this thing with my mom.” She shrugged. “Not a big deal.”

Peter studied her for a moment longer, before remembering what Harry had said before about her being closed off about this sort of thing, and making the decision not to ask any more questions. “All right,” he said. “But if you want to talk it through with someone, I’m willing to listen.”

“Thanks,” Cheri said, and her smile was a bit more genuine now. “I appreciate that, and you guys letting me hang out here.”

“Not a big deal!” Ned said, joining them from the kitchen with a plate load of food himself. “We’re glad to have you.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, sitting down between Peter and Cheri, which forced Peter to move over a little. He balanced his own plate on his thighs and looked at Cheri. “Honestly, go get some food.” 

Cheri hesitated a moment, before sighing, and standing. She walked away to the kitchen, and Harry turned his attention to Ned. “After we eat, I’ll help you study some more, if you want.”

“I think I’m about studied out, my dude,” Ned admitted. “If I don’t know it by now, I’m not gonna learn it by tomorrow morning.” He speared a piece of teriyaki chicken with a chopstick, and then pointed it at Peter. “How’d your final this morning go?”

Peter lifted his shoulders. “Not bad, I guess. There was an essay question. I don’t know how the professor managed to do that on a fluid mechanics exam, but whatever, I wrote it.”

“Have you decided if you’re gonna change your major?” Harry asked him. “I know you said that you were gonna talk to your adviser about it.”

Peter exhaled a breath, opening a packet of soy sauce and dumping it over the rice on his plate. “I had a meeting with her today,” he said. “And she thinks that, with what I want to do, sticking with biomed is the best choice, if I want an engineering degree.” 

“Makes sense,” Ned said. “You want to build prostheses.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “So. I think I’m sticking with it.”

Cheri returned from the kitchen, and settled down on the floor with Ned instead of where she had been on the couch. “One of my professors thinks I should change my major to vocal performance,” she said idly. 

Harry’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “When did they tell you that?” he asked her. 

“Last week,” she replied. “He thinks I’m better suited to being on Broadway than in a classroom.” She shook her head. “I like performing, sure, but… I’ve also wanted to be a teacher pretty much my whole life, so. And… I dunno. There’s too much uncertainty with finding a job like that, you know?”

Peter and Harry exchanged a glance. From the look on Harry’s face, Peter could tell they were thinking the same thing: this might be what Cheri’s fight with her mom had been about. 

“Do you really feel that way?” Harry prompted after a moment of silence, and Cheri looked at him, and then at Peter. Her expression shifted a bit, and she smiled softly. 

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s fun to think about, but… I know what I want to do, and that’s teach. That doesn’t mean I can’t, like, participate in community things, too. I don’t have to make a career out of it.” 

More silence fell, and then Ned inhaled a little. “Should we play a game?” he asked. 

“What kind of game?” Peter replied, glad for the subject change. 

“Well -”

“We’re not playing  _ Who Dun It? _ !” Harry exclaimed at once. Both Cheri and Ned laughed, and Peter grinned as well. 

They did not end up playing a game while they ate, but they did crack open their fortune cookies after they were done, and, as promised by Harry, each added ‘in bed’ to the end of the fortune they received, much to the amusement of everyone else. 

“A good way to keep healthy is to eat more Chinese food, in bed,” Harry read, and Ned burst into guffaws. Harry glanced up. “What the fuck.”

Peter laughed. “There it is, Harry, that’s the secret to you getting better,” he said. 

Harry snorted, and chucked the small piece of paper onto the coffee table, snapping a piece off the cookie. “Yeah, maybe. You go next.”

Peter opened a cookie of his own, and tugged out the slip. “A dream you have will come true, in bed,” he said. 

“That one’s not so funny,” Ned said, still grinning, “but it’s pretty good. What dreams do you have, Peter?” 

Peter very carefully avoided looking at Cheri. “At the moment? To survive summer in Manhattan without melting.”

Cheri chuckled. “Good luck with that.” She looked at Ned. “What’s your fortune?” 

Ned reached for a cookie, and broke it in half. “You must try, or hate yourself for not trying, in bed.” That got a good laugh out of everyone, including himself. “God, this is so good. Cheri?”

Peter watched her reach for a cookie. She cleverly broke it in such a way that crumbs didn’t go everywhere, and pulled out the fortune inside. She read it to herself, first, and smiled. “Now is the time to try something new.” She glanced up. “In bed.”

Everyone laughed again, long and hard. Peter decided the four of them laughing together was one of his favorite sounds. 


	13. The Camping Episode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party of four goes camping. It goes about as well as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of our boy Spider-Man not leaving the MCU, here's this! Because I'm very excited, and felt like writing more about said boy and his best pals today.  
Also I've been thinking about what Cheri's reaction to seeing Peter shirtless for the first time would be, and this happened on top of writing that, so.

**June 22nd, 2021 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA **

Peter peeled his suit off, making a face as he did so. He then haphazardly tossed it to his closet, wanting to get the sweaty material away from him. _ I have to remember to take that to the Compound so I can disinfect it, _ he thought to himself, sinking down onto the edge of the bed. 

It was hot in New York. Temperatures were over one hundred every day, and his suit, while not made of the thickest material, was also not the most breathable. Perhaps that was something he’d need to look into, whenever he decided to actually start work on a Mark IV. Tony would help him figure it out. 

All the same, for the moment, he was dealing with fighting crime in excessive heat, which was not doing him any favors. He needed some water; the amount he’d sweated in the last three hours was _ horrendous. _Thank God no one was around to see him in this state. 

He slouched over to the window long enough to prop his box fan up in front of it, and flick the thing on, before collapsing back onto his bed. The air flow helped cool him off a bit, and he closed his eyes, breathing outwards. Maybe he could take a break for a few days, at least until the heat passed a little. After all, who was committing crime in this type of weather? No one, really, if his experience on the streets over the last couple of days was any indication. For once, it seemed, the criminals had the right of it. 

“Peter?” A knock on his door, and a familiar voice saying his name. His eyes flew open, and he sat up just as the door opened. 

“No, don’t!” he said, jumping to his feet, but Cheri had already opened the door and now stood staring at him. Peter stood still, one arm out in preparation to close the door, had he reached it in time. 

After a long moment, Cheri cleared his throat, and leaned against the door frame. “I was - I was wondering if you wanted to come with Harry and I to get some ice cream,” she said, casually, although Peter could hear her heart hammering away in her chest. 

“Uh… that’d be great,” he said. “Just… give me a second to… get some clothes on.” 

“Right. I’ll… yep.” She turned, closing the door behind her. Once it was shut, she leaned heavily back against it, breathing outwards in a rush of air. 

_ The boy was carved from marble by Michaelangelo himself. _

_ “Madre de Dios,” _she mumbled aloud without really thinking about it. Quickly, she shook her head, and ducked out of the hallway, back into the front room. Harry looked over at her as she headed into the kitchen. 

“You good?” he asked. 

“Yeah, just - hot,” she answered, reaching for a cup so that she could pour herself some water. 

The front door slammed open, then, and Ned stalked into the apartment. “We’re going camping!” he announced to the room in general. 

Hardy snorted. “Yeah? And who the hell do you think is “we”?” he asked, dryly. 

“The four of us,” Ned replied, walking around the couch and plopping down on it. “Because it is almost twenty degrees cooler upstate, and we are literally melting, here.”

Cheri stepped into the archway separating the kitchen from the living room, frowning a little. “I don’t think I want to go camping with the three of you,” she said. “And besides that, I doubt my mother will be the biggest fan of the idea.”

She’d cleared up the fight she’d been having with her mother the same week of finals, by reassuring her that she was still very much on track to become a music teacher, rather than some type of entertainer. Her mother had been relieved by the news, and things had gone back to normal between them quickly after that. Still, Cheri knew that Isabel was not the happiest with how much time she’d been spending in Manhattan, now that the semester was over. 

“So tell her you’re only going with Harry,” Ned said, waving his hand in the air. “We need you to go, because you have a car to drive us.” He lifted both arms, in a sort of dramatic gesture, and said, “We’re going to Cranberry Lake, because it sounded the coolest when I looked up public camping grounds.”

Cheri exchanged a glance with Harry, whose expression was one of perpetual disgust. She had to smile, and turned back to Ned. “I mean,” she started as Peter entered the front room from the hallway, wearing a shirt and basketball shorts, thank God. “The last time I went camping I was still a kid, so... it might be fun?”

“Who’s camping?” Peter asked, frowning a little as he looked between the three of them. 

“All of us,” Ned responded. “At Cranberry Lake. This weekend.”

Peter looked to Harry for clarification. His other friend merely shook his head. Peter turned back to Ned. “Uh. Why?” 

“Because it is _ hot in Manhattan, _and twenty degrees cooler upstate,” Ned stated. “I bought a tent, we’re going.”

“Guys, if I _ do _ go, I’m not sleeping in the same tent as you,” Cheri said, holding up her hands. 

“It’s a _ nine person tent,” _ Ned said, firmly. “We’ll set up a curtain for you, if that’s the problem you have.” 

Cheri glanced very quickly in Peter’s direction, and he did his best not to show that he’d noticed. “Well. I don’t even know if I can go, so,” she said, and then she ducked back into the kitchen. 

Peter looked at his friends. “Are we actually going camping?”

_ “Yes,” _ Ned insisted, putting a hand over Harry’s mouth before he could argue. “This weekend. Go tell Cheri she _ has _ to come.” 

Peter, who was still very much in shock by the fact that Cheri had seen him practically naked only moments before, said, “Uh. Harry can do that.”

“I will not,” Harry said, tugging Ned’s hand away from his mouth with more force than necessary. “I don’t even want to go.”

“You’re coming,” Ned said, and he looked at Peter. “Please, Peter?”

Peter sighed a little, and very slowly entered the kitchen. Cheri was busy pouring herself a glass of water. He leaned against the archway, doing his best to avoid her personal space, and cleared his throat. She glanced at him, and quickly looked away again. 

“Uh. Ned really wants you to come,” he began after a moment. 

“Yeah,” she said. “Uh. I’ll mention it, I guess, but I’m not making any promises.”

“I mean, you are an adult,” Peter said. “Technically, you should be able to do whatever you want.”

Cheri had a feeling that was what her mother would say, too, even if she wasn’t necessarily one hundred percent on board with the idea. “Yeah,” she said again, and she took a drink of water. After a moment of silence, and glanced at him, again. “Uh, sorry for opening the door on you like that.” 

Peter blinked a little, and then shrugged hurriedly, like he really didn’t care that she had, even though he _ did _ care. “No big deal.”

She looked up again. Peter was surprised to see that she looked the tiniest bit embarrassed. “I uh. If it helps any, you… y’know. Looked good?” 

Thank God Peter wasn’t the one drinking water. He probably would’ve choked on it. Instead, he was able to respond, if in a higher pitch than was normal for him: “Thanks.” 

Cheri nodded, quickly, and then ducked around him out of the kitchen, very carefully avoiding brushing up against him in any way. Peter stayed very still in order to help her with that, and then turned a helpless look up to the ceiling. 

_ Camping. With Cheri. In the same tent. Fuck, Ned, _why?

**June 25th, 2021 - Cranberry Lake Public Camping Grounds - New York, USA**

“Ned, you said it was _ cooler _ upstate,” Harry moaned, dragging himself out of the passenger seat of Cheri’s Honda. To Peter, he sort of looked like a puddle, his too-big shirt looking especially over sized with the way it dragged at his lanky form, heavy with moisture. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead, and he looked about ready to curl up into a ball and shrivel away, leaving nothing behind _but_ his clothes. 

“Listen,” Ned started, pushing his way out of the car as well and moving around to the trunk. “It’s cool at night.”

Peter shook his head a little, and found himself looking in Cheri’s direction. She’d wandered away a bit, pausing at the edge of the woods, and gazing into the trees. They weren’t allowed to take the car beyond the treeline, so they’d be leaving it in the lot for the next two nights. They’d also be trekking through the woods on foot until they found an appropriate space to set up camp, which Peter didn’t know that any of them were capable of doing such a thing. 

Ned, however, had done research, and he seemed pretty determined to make this camping trip a successful one. He tugged out the over sized pack that he’d brought, as well as the tent, and then closed the trunk. Cheri silently locked the car, and Ned gestured. 

“Let’s head out!” he said, and started for the woods himself, hefting the pack onto his shoulders. Peter almost went to take it from him, since he’d be able to carry it no problem, but then decided against it. Ned could deal with it; this had been _ his _ idea, after all. 

They made their way into the woods single file, Harry dragging himself along behind Ned, Cheri behind him, and Peter bringing up the rear. All around them, birds whistled and flew between trees, rustling leaves and branches in a way that was slightly disconcerting. Ned took no notice, merely went along humming _ Following the Leader _ under his breath. Cheri looked back at Peter at one point, clearly amused, and Peter smiled back, rolling his eyes to show just how ridiculous he thought this whole experience was going to be. 

Ned stopped in several different clearings, looking around each one very closely, before making a silent decision that it was not suitable, and continuing on. Eventually, however, just when Peter saw that Harry had about _ had _ it, Ned paused, took one look around, and spread his arms. 

“This is it!” he declared, dropping his pack to the foliage below. “Welcome to our campsite, kids.” 

Harry muttered something that was probably a curse, and sank down onto a large stone near the treeline of the clearing that Ned had settled on. It was nice, Peter noticed, well shaded with all the trees overhead, and the ground was flat. It seemed like as good a place as any to set up their tent. 

“All right,” he said, and walked around Cheri to join Ned in the center of the clearing to help him do just that. “Is this, like, one of the pull-rope ones, or -”

“Are you joking?” Ned looked offended. “Of course not, we’re not skilled enough for that bullshit. This, my friend…” He dropped the tent to the ground. “... is a pop-up.” 

“Thank God for small favors,” Cheri commented, stepping towards them. “We just let it do its thing, then?” 

“Watch,” Ned said, and then he unlatched a strap on the tent itself. Within seconds, it had sprang upright on its metal frame, the tarp a combination of orange and white that kind of gave the impression of a creamsicle. Peter was actually kind of impressed. 

“Wow,” he said, stepping back. “The innovations of man have really taken a step forward.”

Cheri snorted, and Peter grinned, taking the stakes and hammer that Ned had pulled out of the pack. He went to work staking the tent into the ground, while Ned started to unpack other things. Cheri squatted down to help. 

“I got fire making stuff, canned food stuff, and, like, stuff to make s'mores, ‘cause what’s the point of camping if you aren’t gonna make s'mores, am I right?” Ned tossed her the bag of marshmallows. Cheri smiled, looking down at them, and then at him again. 

“You thought of everything, huh?” 

“Tried to,” Ned confirmed. He gestured towards Harry. “Grumpy pants over there wasn’t any help, even though I asked him if he wanted me to bring anything specific.” He nodded to Peter. “At least he reminded me to bring a flashlight, too.”

“Gotta have a flashlight!” Peter called, and he hammered the last stake into the ground. He strolled back over to them, twirling the hammer. Cheri raised an eyebrow. 

“You are in oddly high spirits,” she commented. 

“I figure it needs to be at least half and half,” Peter said. “Ned needed at least one other person on his side. I figured I was probably the best choice.” 

She chuckled, and poked through the stuff that Ned had unpacked. After a moment, her smile faded, and was replaced by a frown. “Ned?” 

“Mm?” 

“Did… did you not bring any blankets? Or, like, sleeping things in general?”

A dead silence fell over the clearing. 

After a long, tense moment, Ned began, “Uhm -”

“Jesus Christ.” Harry stood up, and stalked over to the three of them. “I’m driving myself back to the city. Cheri, give me your cars keys.” 

Cheri gave him and his outstretched hand a dry look. “Harry -”

“Ah, please don’t pick right now to be a tit, Cheryl,” Harry interrupted. “Give me the fucking keys.”

Cheri’s eyes narrowed. “How about you stop being a _ shrew, _ Harold, and discuss this with the rest of us like an adult?” Harry shook his head, and she stood up. “This is just like _ Survivor. _You loved that show when we were growing up.”

“This is _ nothing _ like _ Survivor!” _ Harry exclaimed. “We are in the middle of nowhere! There is _ no _ camera crew! There is _ no _ medical team! And they definitely don’t let people like me, who have debilitating diseases, onto the fucking island!” He spun to take all of them in. “In case anyone forgot, I am dying a slow but certain death that stands to hit before I reach thirty-five! Spending two nights out here without blankets of any kind _ will _ shorten the time I have left!” 

“Harry, calm down,” Peter said, dispassionate. “We’ll figure it out.” 

“There is nothing to figure out!” Harry shouted. “He didn’t bring sleeping stuff. We’re going to _ freeze _ out here.”

“Okay, well, probably not, considering that we have the stuff to make a fire,” Peter told him. “And you can have the jacket I brought, if you’re so worried about it.”

“You brought a jacket?” Cheri asked, looking at him in confusion, and Peter shrugged. 

“I thought it might be a good thing to have, just in case.” He looked at Harry again, frowning. “I guess I was right.”

Harry scowled between the two of them for another moment, before cursing and walking back over to his rock. “I’m going to die,” he said over his shoulder, sitting down again with a petulant sigh. Cheri rolled her eyes, and turned to Ned, who was staring at the ground, clearly feeling guilty. 

“Don’t worry about it, Ned,” she told him. “He’ll get over it.”

“I just feel stupid,” Ned admitted. “How could I forget fucking _ blankets, _ of all things?” 

“It’s all right,” Peter said. “Let’s get a fire started, so that Harry has something to sit next to.” 

Ned nodded, and started to compile a fire pit of stones that were scattered around the clearing, probably from the last time someone had camped there. Peter looked at Cheri, who lifted her shoulders, and started to sort through the canned food that Ned had brought. 

Time passed. Harry did not move from his rock until there was a fire glowing in the pit that Ned had built. After that, he sunk down next to the flames, and stared into them, with zero expression. Cheri and Ned decided it was best to go ahead and cook the stew he’d brought, and he produced a pot from his pack, setting it over the fire. 

“He brought a _ pot,” _ Harry muttered, but they all very pointedly ignored him. 

As night fell, they settled in around the fire, toasting marshmallows. Cheri chucked one at Peter, and it smeared across his face. He responded by flicking some chocolate at her. 

“Bitch,” she said, laughing, and threw graham cracker crumbs at him. 

“Hey, stop, you’ll attract bears,” Ned said, sharply, and both Cheri and Peter turned to him, disbelieving. He nodded. “It’s true. There are bears and deer all over these woods.” 

“Great,” Harry grumbled. “Now we’re going to get eaten by a bear, too. Maybe if we're lucky, that'll happen before we freeze to death.”

“Even if there are bears,” Peter said, frowning at Ned, “they’re not gonna come over here, especially if we keep the fire going.”

Even as he spoke, however, there was a loud crack, easily identifiable as a gunshot, and they all turned in the direction it had come from, startled. “What the fuck?” Harry demanded after a moment. 

“Uh. Hunting goes on year-round, around here,” Ned explained. “That was… that was probably someone shooting a deer, or something. Maybe a raccoon.”

There was another gunshot, and Cheri shifted closer to Peter, which he silently took pride in. “We’re fine,” he assured, exchanging a look with Ned. “Like I said before: we just need to keep the fire going.” He glanced up at the sky; it had gotten completely dark, since they’d begun making s'mores. “I think we should tell ghost stories. That’s what people do when they camp, right?” 

“You believe in ghosts?” Cheri asked, skeptically, and Peter shrugged. 

“No. But that’s what makes it less detrimental to our ability to sleep tonight, right?” 

Cheri shook her head. “Ghosts might not be real, but you know what are? Skinwalkers.”

“The fuck is a skinwalker?” Ned asked, immediately intrigued. 

Cheri looked at Harry. “They're supernatural beings that can take the shape of another living creature, whether it be a human, or an animal,” she said after a moment. "They have Indigenous origins, but there are stories about skinwalkers throughout time in many different cultures." She paused, and glanced at Harry, who was sudying the fire. "Harry and I saw one, once.”

“No you didn’t,” Peter said, smiling. When he saw the expressions on both of their faces, however, his smile fell. “You did?”

Cheri nodded. “My _ abuelo _ took the two of us on a fishing trip, once,” she said. “We were… what? Eleven and thirteen?”

“I think so,” Harry said. He shuddered a little. “Fuck, I forgot all about that.”

“We were staying in a cabin,” Cheri went on. “The two of us were sleeping in the front room, while my grandparents slept in the bedroom. We weren’t actually sleeping, obviously, too amped up on adrenaline. Harry decides that he needs to go to the bathroom, and says that he doesn’t want to go outside on his own.” 

“Thanks for coming with me, by the way,” Harry put in. “I don’t think I ever said thank you for that.”

Cheri rolled her eyes, and turned back to Ned and Harry. “We grabbed out flashlights, and snuck out of the cabin, going around to the woods behind it, where there was more cover. Harry went behind a tree, and I waited for him out in the open.” She paused, and winced. “That’s when I heard it, first.”

“Heard what?” Ned asked, eyes wide. 

Cheri glanced at Harry, who looked just the slightest bit more pale than usual. “My _ abuelo,” _ she finally said. “Calling for us. Except it was… off. Like, there was something just enough wrong with his voice that I noticed it.” 

“What was it?” Peter queried. His heart was thudding audibly in his ears. “That tipped you off?” 

“I don’t really know,” she admitted. “Just… it was pitched weird. And it was also coming from the wrong direction. If it had actually been my _ abuelo, _ he would’ve been calling to us from the cabin, since that was where he’d been sleeping. This was coming from deeper in the woods.”

“I saw it, before Cheri did,” Harry said, gazing down at the ground. “It was her _ abuelo, _ but… he was… I don’t know. He was further in the woods than I was, and he was wearing what he’d been on the boat, earlier on in the day. He was… shaped funny, I guess. Like, his arms were too long and stuff like that. Disproportionate. It freaked me the hell out.”

“He came running back around the tree, and he grabbed my arm,” Cheri said. “We ran back to the cabin, screaming our heads off. My _ abuelo _ came out of the bedroom, wanting to know what was wrong, and that’s when we knew we'd been faced with something dangerous.” She exchanged another look with Harry. “We did research, when we got home, and figured what we’d experienced was a skinwalker.”

“Jesus,” Peter mumbled, looking at Ned, who was gaping at them both. “What’d you do?” 

“Nothing,” Cheri said with a shake of her head. “What could we do?” 

“Nothing, I guess,” he sighed after a moment. “I’m guessing you never went fishing again, though.”

“Yeah, absolutely not,” Cheri replied, and she smiled a little. “It’s a fun story to tell, though.”

_ “Fun?” _ Harry asked, incredulous. “We could have died.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t, so.”

Harry scoffed a little, and turned his eyes back to the fire, tugging Peter’s jacket tighter around his thin frame. 

After a moment of silence, Ned said, “Maybe we won’t stay two nights. I think one might be enough for me.”

“Good idea,” Peter said. 

“Yeah, probably the best one you’ve had in your entire life,” Harry agreed, flatly. 

It didn’t take long for him to elect to go into the tent after that, and Cheri followed maybe fifteen minutes later. Peter offered to stay out until the fire dimmed a bit more, so that he could add a few more logs to it for the night, and Ned agreed willingly, heading into the tent as well. Peter heard him comment, once again, on how big it was on the inside. Harry hissed for him to shut the hell up. 

Peter smiled a little to himself, and watched as the flames grew low. After some time, he heard sounds from the direction of the tent, and turned to see Cheri coming out of it. Her hair was a bit disheveled, and she’d clearly been asleep only minutes before. All the same, she walked over to where he still sat by the fire, and sank down beside him, pulling her knees up to her chest. 

“What’s up?” he asked. 

“Nothing,” she murmured, studying the fire. After a moment, she nodded to it. “Do you see anything, in the flames? My _ abuelo _ used to tell me that a person could see their whole future within a fire, if they looked hard enough.”

Peter smiled a little, and looked into the flames. For a moment, he thought he could see shapes forming within them, but decided it was probably just a trick of the light, and shook his head. “Nah.” He glanced at her. “What about you?”

She cocked her head to the side, smiling a little. “I think I see good stuff,” she said. “But maybe it's just my mind showing me what I want to see.”

“Hm.” Peter decided it was time to load the fire with more wood, and he did so, stoking the flames a bit with a stick. He then exhaled, and stood, stretching. “I did my job,” he said. “I’m gonna go in the tent, see for myself how big it is.”

“Mm, good,” Cheri said, standing as well. “You can keep Harry warm instead.”

“I do _ not _ agree to that,” Peter said, but Cheri merely stuck her tongue out at him, and ducked into the tent first. Peter glanced back at the flames for a moment before following. 

Needless to say, Ned did not suggest they go camping again, that summer. Peter was very grateful for that, and he knew that Cheri and Harry were, too.


	14. A Spider Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know, sometimes it's just easier to do a short tidbit via text and a transcript.

**July 14th, 2021 - Text Series Retrieved from StarkPhone Mark IX**

> _ **Cher (1:37 PM):** SEND HELP TO 1234 INTERNET ST.  _
> 
> _ **Me (1:39 PM):** What?  _
> 
> _ **Cher (1:40 PM):** There’s a spider in my room.  _
> 
> _ **Me (1:40 PM):** Seriously, Treble Clef? Just kill it.  _
> 
> _ **Cher (1:41 PM):** But I’m afraid. _
> 
> _ **Me (1:42 PM):** It’s a spider. All you have to do is pick up a magazine and whack it.  _
> 
> _ **Cher (1:43 PM):** I don’t wanna whack it.  _
> 
> _ **Me (1:43 PM):** Cheryl, you are eighteen years old. You can whack a spider.  _
> 
> _ **Cher (1:44 PM):** I don’t wanna whack it.  _
> 
> _ **Me (1:45 PM):** Honestly.  _

**July 14th, 2021 - Outgoing Phone Call Conversation (@ 1:48 PM) - Transcript Retrieved from StarkPhone Mark IX**

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ:** Please come kill it for me. 

**PETER.B.PARKER:** The last thing I’m going to do is that. Where is it?

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ:** My window. It’s just sitting there. 

**PETER.B.PARKER:** Okay then, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to find a magazine, roll it up, and whack the spider. 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ:** I don’t wanna whack it. 

**PETER.B.PARKER:** Cheri, that last thing I ever expected from you was a fear of spiders. 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ:** I’m not afraid of the spider. I just don’t want to whack it. 

**PETER.B.PARKER:** It is not the time for you to grow a conscious. [silence] [sighs] If you don’t want to whack it, put a cup over it and carry it outside. Or open your window, and let it crawl outside on its own. 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ:** I tried that already. It wouldn’t move. 

**PETER.B.PARKER: ** Then it might already be dead. Poke it with a pencil.

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: ** [groans]

**PETER.B.PARKER: ** Cher, it’s a  _ spider. _

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: ** … are you gonna stay on the phone with me? 

**PETER.B.PARKER: ** Yes, I will stay on the phone with you. Pick up a pencil and poke the spider that might be dead. 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: ** What if it  _ isn’t _ dead?

**PETER.B.PARKER: ** We’ll improvise. Do you have a pencil?

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: ** [sighs] Yes. 

**PETER.B.PARKER: ** Good. Now poke the spider with it. 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: ** Okay… here goes. [silence] [yelping] 

**PETER.B.PARKER: ** What happened? [silence] Cher? 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: ** [whispering] It fell. It’s dead. 

**PETER.B.PARKER: ** Why are you whispering? 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: ** [whispering] I didn’t expect it to just plop like that. 

**PETER.B.PARKER: ** Can you dispose of the spider on your own? 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: ** Yeah, I think so. 

**PETER.B.PARKER: ** Okay, then I’m going to hang up now, because I have to get back to work. 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: ** Fuck, you’re at work? I’m so sorry. 

**PETER.B.PARKER: ** [laughs] It’s fine. Gotta go, though. 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: ** Wait! Dinner?

**PETER.B.PARKER: ** We’ll all be home by seven.

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: ** Okay, cool. I’ll bring something over. Sorry, again. 

**PETER.B.PARKER: ** [smiling] Bye, Cheri. 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ:** Don’t you mean ‘Treble Clef’?

**PETER.B.PARKER: ** Leave me alone. I was trying to be fun. 

**CHERYL.M.SCHULTZ: ** [smiling] It was fun. And cute. Get back to work, Queens. 

**PETER.B.PARKER:** M’kay. 


	15. A Bus to Manhattan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a bus issue.

**August 10th, 2021 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“You’re only twenty?” Harry asked in dismay, and Peter sighed a little. 

“For the fifth time, yes,” he said, patiently. “I skipped first grade.”

“But you’re only  _ twenty,”  _ Harry repeated. He blanched. “I’m the oldest one!” 

“Calm down,” Ned advised from the kitchen, where he was in the process of putting candles into a cake that he’d picked up earlier on in the day. “Statistically, I’ll probably die first, so.”

“What? I’m _actively_ _dying_ just sitting here!” Harry exclaimed. “Did you forget about that?” 

Peter shook his head, and glanced down at his phone. He’d been waiting for a text from Cheri all day long, confirming that she was coming over, and had yet to receive one from her. Had he forgotten to tell her that they were just hanging out? He supposed it was possible, but even so, she would’ve wanted to come over, right? Or maybe not, after the fiasco that has been their camping adventure. 

Still. He would’ve thought the person who texted him at  _ midnight _ to say “Happy birthday” before anyone else would’ve wanted to see him on his birthday. Or maybe he was overestimating how much she liked him, and underestimating her competitiveness.

“What?” He glanced at Harry, who had an eyebrow raised. 

“Nothing,” Peter said, putting his phone down on the coffee table. Harry didn’t believe that for a minute. 

“Peter.”

“It’s nothing,” he insisted. The lights in the front room went off, and Ned came strutting around the couch where they were both sitting, holding the cake out in front of him. 

“Happy birthday to you!” 

“Please don’t sing to me,” Peter said, despairingly. 

“Happy birthday to you!” Ned persisted, a bit more sternly, now. He kicked Harry in the leg to get him singing as well. 

“Happy birthday, dear Peter. Happy birthday to you!” 

Ned thrust the cake closer to Peter’s face. “Make a wish!” he said, very much pleased with himself. 

Peter rolled his eyes, but all the same blew out the candles, very aware that there was a tiny voice in the back of his head making a wish. Harry clapped for him when he managed to blow out all the candles at once. “What’d you wish for?”

“Dumbass, he can’t say,” Ned said, “or else it won’t come true.”

“I didn’t even really wish for anything,” Peter told them both. He took the cake from Ned, standing. “I’ll cut this for us.”

“That shouldn’t be how it works,” Ned protested, but Peter ignored him, carrying the cake back into the kitchen. He pulled a knife out of a drawer, and started to slice into the desert, plucking out candles as he went. He was unsurprised to see that Ned had stuck twenty into it, but it did not give him the same sense of affection and amusement it probably would have, normally. 

He was in a bad mood, which sucked. It was his birthday, he was with his boys. He should be having a great time. 

He slid three pieces of cake onto separate plates, and stuck forks into them all. From the living room, he could hear Ned setting up the karaoke machine, and he huffed quietly under his breath. The last thing he wanted to do was sing karaoke. 

“Peter, you got a message!” Harry called to him.

His head lifted, and he darted into the front room, forgetting all about the cake. “From who?” he demanded, leaning over the back of the couch. 

“Chill, fuck,” Harry said, and pushed his phone into his hands. “Where the hell’s the cake?” 

Peter ignored him in favor of unlocking his phone and opening the text he’d received. His spirits fell when he saw that it was only from Tony. 

_ Tony: Are you watching the news? _

_ Me: No, why would I want to depress myself on my birthday? _

_ Tony: A bus turned over on the Brooklyn Bridge. People are trapped inside.  _

Peter cursed under his breath, and looked around at his friends. Ned was still struggling with the karaoke machine; it seemed to not want to turn on. Harry had gone into the kitchen to get the cake. 

“Guys, I uh… I have to go,” Peter said, taking a step in the direction of the hallway. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Harry asked, stepping out of the kitchen again. 

“Yeah, it’s - it’s a thing over at the Tower that they need my help with,” Peter said. “One of the projects I’m part of. I gotta get over there.”

“Do they not know it’s your birthday?” Harry questioned, frowning. 

“They do, but it’s my project, so. I’ll be back soon, though, promise.” 

He didn’t linger long enough to give them further explanation. Instead, he darted to his room, grabbed for his bag that he typically carried with him to the Tower on a normal day; it had his suit inside of it. He jogged back out into the front room, to a look of concern from Ned, and frustration from Harry. 

“Sorry,” he said to them both. “I figure I have to go, though.”

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Ned said, still frowning. “Text me, when you know more, I guess.”

“I will,” Peter said, and he ducked out of the apartment, hurrying down the stairs and around to the back lot, where he quickly shucked his clothes in favor of changing into his suit. He shoved his normal clothing into his backpack, stuck it to the wall, and then headed for the Brooklyn Bridge. Karen rattled off news updates in his ear as he went, letting him know about the progress that was being made, which wasn’t much. 

Apparently, the bus had skidded close to the edge of the bridge, and it was too dangerous to try and get people out with the position it was in. They were currently in the process of getting a crane out there, to help move it, but clearing the bridge of civilian vehicles was taking a lot of time. Peter thought he could save everyone a lot of time if he could get over there, stick some webs to the thing, and pull it back manually. 

He reached the bridge in record time, and found a mess waiting for him. Traffic was backed up from one end of the bridge to the other. There was a wide space surrounding the bus itself, which was dangerously close to falling off the bridge. Peter had to wonder how the people inside were remaining calm enough not to move, and push the bus closer to the edge. 

He swung down to the street on the bridge. As he landed, several people who were watching the whole event cheered, and he lifted a hand to them, jogging towards a police officer that appeared to be in charge of direction traffic. 

“Hey, Officer,” he greeted. “D’you mind if I get in there?” 

The officer looked him up and down. “Do you think you can get the bus away from the edge of the bridge?” he asked, and Peter nodded. 

“Not a problem. Just keep this area clear.” 

“Got it.” The officer turned, spreading his arms and indicating his fellow officers, as well as the people who had climbed from their vehicles to get a closer look. “Everyone get back. Spider-Man’s gonna work his magic.”

_ Yep, magic, _ Peter thought, dryly, and he swung himself over to the bus, so that he could let the people inside know what was going on. 

“Hey, everyone,” he started, speaking up. There were a few cries of panic from inside the bus, not unsurprisingly, and he quickly went on, “Just stay calm. You’ve done a great job of keeping the bus still. I’m gonna get you away from the edge, now. Hang onto something, preferably not one another.” 

“Spider-Man, people are unconscious in here!” someone called. 

Well, that was to be expected. “It’ll be all right,” he assured. “I’ll try to do this as quickly and gently as I can. Cover your ears; it’s gonna get loud.”

After creating a netting of web on the side of the bridge close to the bus, just as a precaution, he swung himself up to the cables on the opposite side of the bridge, and braced himself against two of them. He then shot two webs at the bus, wrapping the ends around his hands. “All right,” he muttered, and exhaled a breath. “I’ve got this. Nice and easy.”

He counted down from three, and then pulled. The metal exterior of the bus dragged across the pavement, creating a horrendous sound that made him cringe. People all over the bridge shrieked, but the loudest screams were coming from inside the bus. Peter kept pulling; he could feel sweat beading on his forehead. He tugged until the web slackened, indicating that the distance between himself and the bus had decreased. He let the webs fall from his hands, and jumped back down to the bridge. Several police officers and firefighters had already hurried towards the bus, and were helping people out of it. Children were handed up, first, and then a young man poked his head through the door. 

“Three people are unconscious,” he said, eyes wide. He had a gash on his forehead that was bleeding into his eye. “They’re breathing, but they won’t wake up.” 

“It’s all right, sir, we’ll take care of them,” the cop that Peter had spoken to assured, and then the man was helped from the bus, and lead over to a medic so that he could deal with his head injury. 

“If we could get the rear door open, we’d get people out a lot quicker,” Peter said. 

“The rear end is smashed to hell,” a different cop told him. “The door won’t open.” 

Peter jogged around to the back of the bus to see for himself. The rear was a mangled mess of metal; he wondered if that was indicative of where it had been hit, that had caused it to roll. Not that it mattered much; the people inside were the important thing in that moment. 

He tried to pull the door open with two webs, but it was useless. It wasn’t budging. 

He went back around to the front of the bus instead. They’d gotten several more people out, all with various injuries, but none that looked serious. Really, with how severe the wreck had seemed, the lack of mortal injuries was surprising. Peter was very relieved. 

Once all of the people who were conscious were removed from the bus, several firefighters hopped down into the vehicle to help with the unconscious riders. One by one, they were shuffled out of the bus in the most ginger manner that could be accomplished, through the windshield. Peter helped by clearing away all the glass that had remained in the space. 

“There’s a woman in her fifties, and older man, probably early sixties, and a young woman, late teens, early twenties,” he heard one of the EMTs state in a walkie-talkie that was no doubt relaying information to the closest hospital. 

Peter’s head snapped in his direction, and then in the direction of the bus, where the last stretcher was being unloaded. He ran over to it, and stopped dead when he saw the figure that was strapped to it. 

“Cheri,” he whispered, unable to do much more than watch as they carried her stretcher towards an ambulance that had been ushered onto the scene through the traffic. She was very pale, and had an oxygen mask strapped to her face. The EMTs were not moving with much speed, however, which indicated that she wasn’t in immediate danger. Still. 

“Spider-Man?” He blinked, and tried to focus on the police officer that had approached him. “I think we’ve got it from here. Thanks to you, recovery time of these people was a lot quicker than it would have been if we’d relied on the crane we were trying to get over here.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter murmured, watching as the ambulance pulled away. “Glad to help. I… I gotta go.”

He turned and swung away, off of the bridge and over to the Brooklyn side, which was the direction the ambulance carrying Cheri had gone in. He forced himself to stop following it, and landed on a lamp post, blinking at the ground below. 

“Uh… Karen?” he managed. “I think… uh.” 

“What do you need, Peter?” his AI asked. The familiarness of her voice helped to center him. 

“Call Ned,” Peter said after a moment. 

“Got it. Calling Ned.”

The line rang twice before Ned picked up. Peter could hear the sounds of  _ Total Eclipse of the Heart _ in the background. “Peter? Are you okay? What happened?”

“Hey,” Peter said. He swallowed. “I uh. I had to help an overturned bus on the Brooklyn Bridge. No one was seriously hurt, but -” He closed his eyes. “Cheri was on it. She was unconscious, when they pulled her out. I… the ambulance took her over into Brooklyn, and that’s where I am now. I don’t… I don’t know what to do, Ned.”

“Okay,” Ned said. “Peter, it’s gonna be fine. I probably can’t get over there, with the bridge the way it is, and you shouldn’t go to the hospital, either, since your really shouldn’t be over there, realistically, but…” He paused, and then sighed. “I’m sure she’ll be okay.”

“But she’s -”

“Peter, you need to come home,” Ned told him. “It isn’t smart of you to stay in Brooklyn. I’m sure Harry will hear something, eventually, from Cheri’s mother, once they can get in touch with her. You have to keep this to yourself. If you don’t want people knowing...”

Peter bowed his head. “I know,” he said, quietly. “I know, Ned, I just -”

“I know you’re worried,” Ned assured. “But you can’t be there, dude.”

He was right. Peter had to get out of Brooklyn, before he was even more tempted to go to the hospital they took Cheri to. “I’m coming back,” he murmured. “Uh. Yeah. I’ll be home soon.”

“Peter? Cheri’s gonna be okay,” Ned said again. “I’m sure of it.”

Peter closed his eyes again. “I hope so,” he whispered. 

**August 11th, 2021 - The Brooklyn Hospital Center - 121 Dekalb Ave., Brooklyn, New York, NY, USA**

She was okay. She had a broken arm, and she’d hit her head hard when the bus flipped, which had been what knocked her unconscious. The combination of that and the pain from her arm had kept her unconscious during the whole event, but she was awake when Harry, Ned, and Peter walked into her room at the hospital the next day. 

In fact, she smiled at them. “Hey,” she said, her voice soft. Her eyes found Peter, first. “Happy belated birthday, Pete. Sorry I didn’t get to come by yesterday. I was kind of… busy.”

He managed a weak smile. “You did not just say busy and rhyme it with the word ‘bus’,” he said. “They’ll think you have a brain injury.”

Cheri laughed, and then eyed the flowers that Harry was carrying. “Harry, you know I don’t like flowers.”

“Ned said it was a good idea,” Harry responded, setting them down on the table next to the bed. 

“I figured we had to bring you something,” Ned said. He nodded to the purple cast on her arm. “Anyone sign that yet, or do I get to be the first one?” 

“I think Pete should be the first one, actually,” Cheri said. “Since I missed his birthday.”

Peter shook his head. “If Ned wants to go first, he can.”

While Ned made artwork on her cast, Peter leaned against the wall, and Harry settled down in a chair. “What were you doing on the bus in the first place?” he asked. 

“My stupid car was getting it’s oil changed,” Cheri explained, “but then they told me I needed to do an emission’s test, which I figured was bullshit but it’s not like I could argue. It ended up being at the shop the whole damn day. I wanted to get over to your guys’ apartment, though, so I thought the bus would be the best choice.” She pursed her lips. “Clearly not.” 

“Do you have a concussion?” Peter asked, and she nodded. 

“It’s not a bad one, though. They called it ‘mild’.” She lifted her arm with the cast, disturbing Ned’s work, which he cursed at her for. “This is the bigger deal.” 

“You’re fucking up my picture,” Ned said, hotly. “Stop moving.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Cheri said, but she was smiling. “Please continue, Picasso.”

“Is that the same arm you broke when we were in high school?” Harry asked, and Cheri shook her head.

“It’s my left one, this time.”

“Oh, right!” Harry said. He laughed. “You were so pissed when you broke your right arm in high school, because you were still able to write and do work and stuff.” 

“Shut up,” Cheri told him. “It’s not funny.”

“Cheri?” She glanced at Peter, eyes bright with amusement, and he had to take a moment. “I… I feel like I need to say sorry.”

Her smile faded. “What, why? You didn’t push over the bus.”

“No, I - I was kind of pissed off at you, yesterday, because you hadn’t come by the apartment,” he admitted. “And it… I don’t know, I feel like an ass, now, for feeling that way, knowing that you were in an accident.” He looked down. “So. Sorry. For being pissed at you.”

“I accept your pointless apology, if it will make you feel better,” Cheri told him, and then she looked at Ned again. “Are you done yet?” 

“No,” he replied without looking up. 

Cheri rolled her eyes, and glanced back at Peter. “Your present should be in here somewhere.”

“You got me a present, too,” he said, sighing, and she smiled. 

“Duh. It  _ was _ your birthday.”

“We didn’t get him shit,” Harry said, frowning a little. 

“I stopped buying him presents in seventh grade,” Ned added. He’d at some point pulled himself onto the bed and was laying on his stomach, still drawing on Cheri’s cast. He paused long enough to tell the full story. “He turned twelve that year, and I got him a really sick Nerf gun so that we could do Nerf fights, right? And then he fucking broke it.”

“It fell down the stairs,” Peter retorted. 

“After you kicked it!” 

“On accident - no, you know what, we’re not talking about this again, it happened  _ eight years ago.” _ Peter passed a hand through his hair, pretending not to notice that Cheri was giggling. 

“Since Peter’s never broken a gift I’ve gotten him,” she said after managing to stifle her laughter, “I got him something, and it’s… I’d guess it’s probably in the closet, with my clothes.” Peter went to look in the closet, and Cheri continued, “It’s really not that good, but I figured I needed to get you something, since you got me something, so.”

He found the gift in the closet, like she’d thought. It was small, wrapped in tissue paper only. Peter wondered briefly if she’d forgotten to wrap it, and had hastily done so before leaving her apartment to catch the bus. He unfolded the tissue paper, and smiled when he saw what it had been covering. He lifted the keychain, and glanced over at Cheri. 

“Where the hell did you find this?” 

She grinned back, and shrugged. “Had it made. I thought you might like it, to stick on your backpack. And like, I’m really bad at coming up with gifts, so sorry that I also got you a keychain, even though that’s exactly what you got me.”

“It’s great,” Peter said, looking down at the keychain. She’d had it designed to look like an outline of the skyline of Queens. It was really cool. “Thanks, Cher.”

“That’s the best present you’ve ever gotten anyone,” Harry said, and he actually sounded a little hurt. “What the fuck?” 

“Hey, when was the last time you got me a birthday present?” Cheri asked him. 

“I thought we had an agreement,” Harry said. “We don’t get presents for one another, anymore, because why the fuck would we bother.” 

“So then why the fuck are you complaining?” Cheri questioned. 

“Because, even when we were giving one another presents, you never got me anything as good as that,” Harry retorted. 

“We were  _ children.” _

“Still!” 

“All done!” Ned announced, capping the Sharpie he’d been using and sitting up. “I present,  _ The Quadrivium,  _ a masterpiece by Edward Leeds.”

His  _ masterpiece _ featured four stick figure drawings, each with tiny details that implied that they were meant to represent the four of them. Cheri smiled down at the drawing, even though she was technically viewing it upside down, and then she grinned at Ned. 

“It’s great,” she said. “Thanks.” She took the Sharpie from him, and held it out. “Who’s next?” 

They spent the next half hour with her in her hospital room, Peter holding the keychain she’d gotten him the whole time. At one point, Harry elected to use the restroom, and Ned said he wanted to go look in the giftshop, and both left, leaving Peter and Cheri alone. She looked up at him. 

“You really like it?” she asked, and he smiled. 

“Yeah. It’s awesome.” He held the keychain up so that they could both look at it. “I lived in Queens my whole life,” he said, “so… yeah. It’s really cool.”

“I just thought it would be kind of funny. I call you Queens, and you gave calling me ‘treble clef’ a try, and you got me  _ a  _ treble clef keychain, so I figured getting you a Queens keychain would…” She trailed off, and then sighed. “I dunno.”

He grinned at her. “I get it,” he said. “It is funny.”

Cheri seemed mollified. “Okay,” she said, and leaned back a little, eyes closing. 

“And uhm.” She opened her eyes again, and looked at him. “I won’t call you Treble Clef again.”

She smiled. “I didn’t mind,” she told him. “It was really sweet.”

“Oh.” Peter glanced away, hoping that he wasn’t blushing visibly. “All right, since you didn’t mind, then… y’know, when I don’t think it’s weird -”

“Queens?” 

“Yeah.”

“Stop talking.”

“Right.” He slid his keychain into his pocket, and looked at her again. “When are they letting you out?”

“Not until later tonight,” she said. “My mom’s gonna come get me after work.” She shrugged. “That whole twenty four hour observation thing, or whatever.”

“I’m surprised she isn’t here,” Peter said, and Cheri shrugged a little. 

“My family’s never really been the worrying type,” she explained. “My  _ abuelo’s  _ job meant he was getting hurt all the time, so… as long as everyone else knows it isn’t serious, then it doesn’t make sense to worry about the person who was hurt.” 

“Hm.” That was a new concept to Peter, who was getting hurt more often than not, and had simply decided to stop telling May about it, when it wasn’t so serious, because he knew that she would worry even about small things. “Well. I guess that’s fair. At least you’re not, like, in a coma.” The idea of  _ that _ terrified the hell out of him; he could only imagine how Cheri’s mother would’ve felt about it. 

“Yeah,” she said. “Really, it could have been a lot worse, for everybody on the bus.” She made a face. “If it had actually fallen  _ off _ the bridge -”

“Okay, I don’t think we need to think about that,” Peter said, quickly. That idea was even more horrifying. “It didn’t, and you’re all okay, for the most part, so.”

“Thanks to Spider-Man, I’ve been told,” Cheri said, and Peter shrugged. 

“Yeah, apparently he was there. Good for him, I guess. Doing that superhero thing.” Why did Spider-Man always have to come up between the two of them? Sheesh. 

“I’d like to thank him,” Cheri said after a moment. “Just… y’know. For making sure the bus  _ didn’t  _ fall off the bridge.” She paused. “Since I’d be dead.” 

“Ah, yeah, I’m - I’m sure that he wouldn’t have wanted that, for you or anyone else, so he just did what he needed to do to avoid that,” Peter told her. “And like, again, he’s a superhero. Saving people is his job.” 

She glanced over at him. “You don’t think he lets it get personal?” she asked, and Peter shrugged. 

“I don’t know. I can’t… I can’t read his mind, or anything.” 

“But what if it were you?” Cheri asked, and Peter blew out a breath of air. She was really doing this, huh? 

“I don’t know,” he said. “That’s a hard question to answer. I really hope it’s one I  _ never _ have to answer. I don’t… Spider-Man’s got a tough job.” 

Cheri was watching him, and, if he wasn’t making things up, she actually seemed to be kind of disappointed, by his response. She didn’t express this aloud, obviously, and instead turned her gaze away. “Yeah,” she said. “He does.”

Harry returned to the room, then, holding a candy bar that Cheri immediately scolded him for purchasing, saying that he had no idea what his sugar levels were. He waved her off, insisting that he needed the sugar, and offered half of it to Peter, which he declined, grateful for the distraction to get his mind off of the conversation on Spider-Man. 

That distraction was no longer present later on that evening, however, and his mind was free to race as he considered all the things that Cheri had said, the ways that she’d looked at him throughout the talk. She’d been prying, he recognized. She had suspicions, and not for unjust reasons, either.

But had she been disappointed because he’d seemed to not be Spider-Man, after their conversation, or for another reason that Peter didn’t understand? It was difficult to process, the possibility that Cheri had been  _ this close _ to figuring out that he was Spider-Man, and he’d deterred her through a single answer to a question that could have been posed to anybody. He hated having to have lied to her, but… he didn’t want her knowing. That was the short of it. 

If he was lucky, that would be the end of it, too. Hopefully, he’d convinced her enough to turn her away from the idea that he was Spider-Man, because he really didn't know of any way of handling this otherwise. If she believed that he wasn’t on her own, then that would be it. He could only hope that that was how it was. 


	16. It's (Almost) Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned takes issue with the signs outside of coffee shops stating that it is fall, when, in fact, it is only *almost* fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don't know if it's the best idea to not post these chapters in chronological order. Maybe I'll add a prologue that lists all the chapters and where they fall chronologically on the list. That might be a good idea.

**September 3rd, 2021 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“Is it fall yet?” 

Peter looked up from his phone, and at Ned, who was leaning around the hall, into the living room. 

“Uh, no,” Peter said. “Fall doesn’t technically start until the 21st.” 

“The _ 21st?” _Ned asked, dismayed, and Harry leaned out of the kitchen. 

“I actually think it’s the 22nd,” he said. 

_ “Ugh,” _ Ned groaned, and he disappeared back into the hall. Peter and Harry exchanged a look, before Harry rolled his eyes and went back into the kitchen. Peter smiled a little, and turned back to his phone. 

There was a knock on the front door, then, and he looked up again, a little annoyed, now. “Who the hell could that be?” he asked, standing.

“The landlord?” Harry peeked out again, frowning, too. “But we paid rent already for August, so, I don’t know.” 

Peter walked to the door, and pulled it open, and blinked at the person on the other side. “What’re you doing here?”

“Mm, thanks,” Cheri said, walking past him into the apartment. She was sporting her cast, still (apparently, it wouldn’t be removed for another two weeks), only it was shorter, now, stretching only to her elbow rather than up her whole arm. It was still purple, though. “Good to see you too.”

“Hey!” Harry said from the kitchen. “Wait. Did you drive yourself?” 

“Yes, duh, how else would I have gotten here?” Cheri asked, rolling her eyes. When Peter gaped at her, she made a face back. “You act like I can’t drive with one hand.”

“Maybe you _ can, _ but you _ shouldn’t,” _ Peter said, moving forward and plucking her keys from her hand. “Jesus, Cher.”

“What, I got here, safely, I might add,” she said, and she sat down on the couch. “So, like, what’s the big deal?” 

“The big deal is that you have a broken wrist, and, like, three weeks ago, you had a concussion,” Peter told her. “Or did you forget?”

“Did I forget that I was in a bus that rolled over on the Brooklyn Bridge?” Cheri clarified. “Mm. No, I don’t think a person can forget something like that. Unless their concussion leads to amnesia, I guess.” She was silent for a moment, and then she shook her head. “The point is: I did not forget about my concussion, but I needed to come here because college starts again in, like, three days, and I wanted to do something fun before then.”

Peter eyed the backpack she’d brought with her. “And?” he prompted. 

“And… I was wondering if I could stay here for the next two weeks, so that I don’t have to drive between Brooklyn and the city while my arm is in a cast and I’m taking very high doses of pain medication during the evenings,” Cheri concluded. 

Harry finally emerged from the kitchen, holding a bowl of cereal, and he nodded, slurping up some skim milk. “Sure you can stay,” he said, and looked at Peter. “She can stay, right?” 

“Yes,” Peter agreed, “but who’s giving up their bed?” 

“I can share with Harry,” Cheri said dismissively. “It’s big enough for the two of us. Or I’ll sleep on the couch.” Her shoulders fell. “I really do appreciate this, though, you guys. My mom’s been freaking about it since we found out I’d have the cast into school.” She waved that arm. “I shouldn’t even be going to class, since I can’t use my fucking arm anyway, but.”

“CHERI.” 

“Fuck,” Peter cursed, jumping, as Ned’s voice rang through the apartment, and then he jogged into the living room. 

“Cheri, Cheri, it isn’t_ actually _fall yet,” he said, despondent, and Cheri lifted an eyebrow. 

“No, it isn’t,” she agreed, looked at Peter and Harry, both of whom could only give her helpless shrugs of their shoulders. She turned back to Ned. “Why’s that a problem?” 

“Because all of the coffee shops _ say _ it’s fall on their, like, chalkboards outside, but it _ isn’t,” _ Ned told her. “Which bothers me. So. I want to do something about it, and you’ll willingly do this with me, whereas these other losers would probably say something like, “Ned, we _ can’t _ do that, it’s _ illegal, _ probably.” You’re my only choice.”

Cheri was smiling, now. “Yeah, I love doing things that might be illegal,” she agreed. “What is it?” 

“I want to go around to all the coffee shops that say it’s fall on their boards, and changed them so that they’re accurate, and stop fooling people like me,” Ned explained. 

“So… we’re gonna take chalk, and change the messages on the chalkboards?” Cheri asked, and Ned nodded enthusiastically. “Hell yeah, I’m in.”

“What? No,” Harry said, stepping forward. “That’s not - you guys can’t do that.”

“We can if you’re not there to stop us,” Cheri said, and she stood. “We’ll go buy chalk, first, a bunch of different colors just in case the coffee shops decided to be festive or whatever.”

“Absolutely, I love a pair of prepared queens,” Ned said happily, hopping up as well. “And I can drive, if you want.”

Harry looked at Peter, eyes wide. “Are we actually going to let them do this? They could get arrested.”

Peter sighed a little. “And if they are, we’ll bail them out,” he said, and walked around the couch, reaching for his phone again as he sat down. 

“Are you _ kidding?” _ Harry asked, and Peter responded to this by tossing Ned Cheri’s keys. “You’re _ not _ kidding.”

“No, ‘cause what’s the point?” Peter queried. “They aren’t going to listen.”

“Absolutely not,” Cheri agreed cheerfully. “C’mon, Ned.”

“Yes, Duane Reade here we come!” Ned said, ducking out of the apartment. “Bye guys, we’ll bring back food!” 

“Please don’t get arrested,” Harry called after them, helplessly, and the door closed behind the two of them. He turned back to Peter. “We’re really letting them go?”

“Yeah,” Peter replied without looking at him. “It could be something considerably worse, so.”

Harry shook his head. “We’re gonna regret this,” he muttered, and walked into the kitchen again. 

Peter was very afraid Harry would prove to be right.

* * *

“There’s one!” Ned said, pointing, and Cheri pulled out the necessary chalk colors and handed them to him. “What? No, I can’t write on a chalkboard.”

“And you think I can?” Cheri asked, and then held out her broken arm in his direction. “I’m fucking busted, remember?” 

“Shit,” Ned sighed. He took the chalk from her, and then squatted down in front of the chalkboard, glancing over his shoulders. “Keep an eye out.”

“Got it,” Cheri said, and she glanced up and down the street, watching for cops, or anyone else that might bust them. She even peered into the coffee shop, but it was the middle of the day, and all of the employees were busy with the countless customers inside. 

“I think you’re in the clear,” she said, and looked at the chalkboard. Ned had drawn one of those insert arrows between the words ‘It’s’ and ‘Fall’ on the board, and above that had written, ‘Almost’. Cheri smiled to herself as he stood up again. “Nice.”

“On to the next?” he asked, and she nodded in agreement. 

It only took them a four block walk down the street to find another mislabeled sign. Ned went to work on that one, while Cheri repeated her process of watching out for the two of them. This time, one of the employees seemed to notice the two of them outside, but only after Ned had finished his task. When he’d made his way outside, they had already crossed the street, to avoid being called out, giggling. 

“That was kind of close,” Ned said. “I felt the brush of death.”

“Okay, but Ned, we really can’t get arrested, because Peter and Harry would be pissed,” Cheri told him. 

“We’re not gonna get arrested,” Ned insisted. “We’re 2 for 2, and we agreed we’d only cover the coffee shops in a ten block vicinity of the apartment. We’ve got this.”

Cheri nodded. “All right. Let’s keep going. There’s supposed to be another one up here.”

They made it through five more signs before they couldn’t get away from the employee that came out to see what they were doing fast enough. He was a teenager, clearing working a summer job that he had yet to give his two weeks notice to, and Cheri almost felt bad for doing this to him. 

“Hey, what are you guys doing?” he asked, and Ned moved out of the way of the sign, gesturing grandly. 

“It’s not fall,” he announced, “and so we’re dealing with the false advertising of coffee shops around the city saying that it is.”

The kid glanced between him and Cheri for a moment, clearly a little befuddled. “So… you just changed the sign?” he asked, and Cheri nodded. 

“We’re just spreading the truth; not that it _ is _ fall, but that it’s _ almost _ fall,” she told him. 

Again, the kid looked between her and Ned. After a long moment, he said, “I don’t think I can let you do that.”

“Ah, c’mon, kid, we’re not _ bothering _anybody,” Ned said. 

“Right. In fact, this might give you more publicity,” Cheri added. “People see this sign, laugh about it, post it online with the caption, like, _ They got it right, it _ is _ almost fall. _ Could draw in more customers.”

“Look, I’m not saying it isn’t funny, but I don’t think my manager will think so, and I’ll probably get blamed for it.”

Ned and Cheri exchanged a look. The kid probably had a point. They hadn’t even considered that aspect of it. Someone would be blamed for the changes on the signs, and it probably would be an employee. Who knew what would happen then?

“Shit,” Ned sighed, and Cheri shook her head a little, turning back to the kid. 

“You’re right,” she said. “Sorry.” She brushed away the additions Ned had made to the sign with her sleeve. “Have a nice day.”

She grabbed Ned’s arm and pulled him along with her back down the street, back to the last sign they had changed. From there, they retraced their steps, erasing the changes that they’d made to each chalkboard outside the coffee shops they’d passed. Thankfully, none of them had already been erased, indicating that either no one had noticed, or that it had been, but the person who’d seen it had thought it was funny, and had left it. 

Either way, they went about changing them all, until they wound up in front of the first one they’d altered. 

“Well, so much for that,” Ned grumbled, frowning at the sign in contempt. “I hate having a conscious.”

“Me too,” Cheri agreed, “but at least we can go back to the apartment and tell the others that we learned a morality lesson while doing this?” 

“Cheri, think about that for a second,” Ned said, holding up his hands. “If we go back there and tell them we made that realization, they’re going to say, haha, I told you so. Do we really want _ that?” _

Cheri considered it for a moment, before her shoulders fell. “No, I guess not.” She gestured to the chalkboard. “We should have taken a picture of it before, so we could prove we actually did it.”

They looked at one another for a moment, and then at the sign, before Ned held up the chalk. “We’ll change this one back long enough to take a picture?” he suggested, and Cheri nodded in agreement. 

“Good plan.”

It took about two minutes, and as soon as they were done taking the picture, Ned erased the addition immediately, and they hurried away from the coffee shop. 

They returned to the apartment, a little crestfallen, but still feeling proud of the proof they’d sort of had the foresight to gather. 

“Well?” Peter asked, glancing up. “That didn’t take long.”

“No,” Cheri said, “but look.” She pushed his phone into his face, the picture she’d taken on the screen for him to see. “You see? We did it.”

Peter blinked at the screen. “I see it,” he said, pushing the phone back a couple of inches. “Good for you. I’m glad I didn’t have to come get you from one of the police stations.”

“We were good,” Ned said, and he was doing a pretty good job of sounding proud of himself. Cheri had to admire his acting skills. “We did a good thing, straightening out the false advertising plague that invested the city.” He clapped his hands together. “Go us.”

With that, he walked out of the room, and Peter smiled at Cheri. “You realized that someone would get blamed for you changing the signs and immediately changed them all back, didn’t you?” he asked her. 

“What? No. No,” Cheri said, and she made a face. “What gives you that idea?” 

Peter continued to smile, and turned back to his laptop. “Whatever you say, Cher,” he said. 

“Thank God you weren’t arrested,” Harry said, stepping out of the hallway. He actually did look relieved. “I did not want to be the one to have to tell your mom _ why _ you were arrested in the first place.”

“If I ever _ do _ get arrested, do _ not _ tell my mom anything,” Cheri said, and she sat down on the couch next to Peter. “Do I get to share your bed or what?” 

“Actually, Peter suggested that you just sleep in his bed,” Harry told her. “He said he doesn’t mind sleeping on the couch for the next couple of weeks.” 

Cheri looked sideways at Peter, her brow furrowed. “I’m not going to do that to you,” she said, and Peter lifted his shoulders. 

“I can sleep anywhere. It’s not a big deal.” 

Cheri shook her head. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Why are you _ complaining?” _ Harry asked her. “What, are you afraid that we won’t change his sheets or something?” 

“I’ll change the sheets,” Peter said at once. 

“No, it - I’m complaining because it isn’t _ fair,” _ Cheri responded. “I’m not taking your bed, Pete.”

“Well, I’m not letting you sleep on the couch,” Peter retorted, “so one of us is gonna have to compromise, and since I _ live _here, I think it’s only fair that we do things my way.”

Cheri stared at him for a long moment, before her expression shifted, and she turned away, crossing her arms with a huff. “Fine,” she muttered, “but I really don’t think it’s fair.”

“Well, it doesn’t _ matter,” _ Peter said, “because I think it’s the right thing to do.” He closed his laptop. “Are we getting dinner?”

“I don’t know, are we?” Harry asked with a sigh.

Cheri stood. “I’m gonna change the sheets right now before I forget to do it,” she said.

“There’s a spare set in my closet,” Peter told her, and then his eyes widened slightly, and he stood up too, very quickly. “I’ll get them.”

“Queens, I can get a pair of sheets.”

“There up on the shelf, I don’t think you’ll be able to reach them one handed,” Peter explained hastily, and he jogged to his bedroom. Cheri exchanged a look with Harry, who lifted his shoulders. Frowning a little to herself, Cheri faced forward again. 

“He’s kind of weird,” she said after a moment, and Harry snorted. 

“You’re only just now realizing that?” He wandered towards the kitchen. “What type of food do you want?” 

“Anything but Chinese!” Cheri called back. “That’s, like, all we ever have when I’m here.”


	17. 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's turning twenty-one. He shouldn't drink too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if this is necessary, but I'm going to mark this chapter as a trigger warning: alcohol abuse and/or alcohol poisoning. I'm not sure if that's a problem for anyone, but I know someone who experienced alcohol poisoning, once, and they don't like remembering it, so... just putting it out there, right now.  
Also, a trigger warning: suicide attempt, but... well. They talk about it being a possibility.

**October 12th, 2021 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“I’M 21, BITCHES!”

Cheri rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to pull Harry away from the window he was leaning out of, and screaming his age to the world. It was his birthday, he was allowed to make a fool of himself. That was the general rule. 

“Harry, I don’t think anyone cares how old you are,” Peter advised, walking into the front room. 

“I know,” Harry said over his shoulder, and then he turned back out the window. “I’M SORRY FOR SAYING BITCHES, I’M JUST WORKED UP.” 

He retreated from the window, and walked across the room to the couch where Cheri sat, sinking down next to her. She smiled to herself, shaking her head and studying the ceiling. “You’re a lot,” she told her friend. “Has anyone said that to you, before?”

“Everyday,” Harry responded, grinning back. “Do you know who else was born on October 12th?”

“Hugh Jackman,” Ned called from the kitchen. 

“I guess so, but that wasn’t who I was thinking of,” Harry said. 

“Ralph Vaughn Williams,” Cheri put in. At Harry’s blank look, she shrugged. “He’s a composer.”

Harry sighed impatiently. “Josh Hutchinson,” he said. 

“Hah, I was closer,” Ned taunted, walking into the front room. 

“You love Josh Hutchinson,” Cheri said, and Harry nodded vehemently. 

“I do. He’s a good lookin’ guy.”

“Harry, you’re not gay,” Peter told him, leaning out of the kitchen. 

“For Josh Hutchinson, I could be,” Harry cooed, raising his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Gross,” Cheri said, sliding away from him. “Don’t be nasty.”

_ “Ooh, baby, I love your way, everyday, yeah!” _Harry crooned, leaning towards her. 

“God, stop!” Cheri exclaimed, pushing him away. “You are _ wasted.” _

“Peter, force Cheri to love me!” 

Peter sighed a little to himself from where he was in the kitchen. He heard Ned and Harry start arguing about how Harry can be an idiot on his birthday, but he’s not permitted to accost anyone. Harry insisted that it hadn’t been an attempt to accost, just an attempt to be cuddled. Cheri told him that she had no desire to cuddle him. 

“But it’s my _ birthday,” _Harry whined, pitifully, and Peter finished sticking candles in the cake, thankfully, so that he could go into the living room and disrupt the conversation. 

Ned popped up, grinning, and started to sing: “Happy birthday to you!” 

“Happy birthday to you,” Cheri put in, and Peter stopped behind the couch, holding the cake out to Harry over the top of it. 

“Happy birthday, dear Harry!” all three sang, on various pitches, which made Cheri wince. 

“Happy birthday to me!” Harry finished for them, and then he blew out the candles, before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he toppled sideways off the couch. 

“Harry!” Cheri exclaimed, getting down on the floor beside him to pull his head into her lap. “Shit, fuck, I knew this was going to happen.”

Ned had already scrambled for his phone to call an ambulance, and Peter almost dropped the cake square on the floor in his haste to join Cheri. He remembered at the last moment, and set it down on the edge of the coffee table as he hurried around the couch. He sank to his knees next to Harry, who’d gone very white. Cheri had her fingers against the pulse point in his neck, and was keeping count, frowning to herself as she studied her phone. 

“It’s getting slower,” she whispered, and then she glanced up, her eyes meeting Peter’s. 

Peter leaned over, resting his ear against Harry’s chest. He could hear his heartbeat, which was dull, indicating that Cheri was right; his pulse was slowing down, which was _ not _ what they wanted to be happening. At least he was still breathing, although shallowly. 

“Ned?” he called over his shoulder, and his friend flapped a frantic hand at him in response, still on the phone with 911. Peter turned back to Cheri, who was cradling Harry’s head, brow furrowed in desperation. 

“C’mon, Harry,” she murmured. “You’re stronger than this.”

“What happened?” Peter asked, and she glanced up at him. 

“I’m pretty sure he had an adverse reaction to all the alcohol in his system, because of his medication,” she said. “It’s the same thing with sugar; his diet is like, super particular, because of all of the things that mix badly with the medicine. Alcohol was obviously on the list, which, like, duh.” She looked back down at Harry, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “I wish he would’ve taken that seriously.” 

“The ambulance is on its way,” Ned said, coming over to them. He squatted down next to Cheri, pale himself. “I told him he was drinking too much.” 

Cheri shook her head. “I knew that he was excited for his birthday, but I didn’t think he’d let it get to this point.” She looked up and met Peter’s eyes. “I guess I was wrong, though.” 

“How’s his pulse?” Peter asked, not wanting to go down the discussion path that seemed to be approaching. 

“It’s steady, now, but a lot slower than it should be,” she said. “This is what happens when he has too much sugar, too. His system slows down, to conserve energy.” She rested her hand on Harry’s forehead. “They’ll have to flush him out, probably, because his body’s never learned to regulate itself after one of these attacks.”

“But he’ll be okay?” Ned questioned, worriedly, and Cheri nodded. 

“I think so. He hasn’t collapsed like this in a few years, though, which is probably why it hit him so hard.” She frowned down at Harry’s face. “Why do you do this to yourself, you tit?” she murmured, softly. 

Peter and Ned exchanged a look. Ned’s expression read the same thing that Peter was feeling, but he knew that they were both too afraid to say it out loud. Still, it was hard to believe anything different: Harry had known what he was doing, and, this time, he’d been hoping that his body would shut down completely. 

**October 13th, 2021 - Northwell Health - 41 E. 8th St., New York, NY, USA**

“You’re not serious.”

Peter glanced down. “I wish I wasn’t,” he said, quietly, “but… what other explanation is there? If he knew what alcohol would do to him, I don’t… he wouldn’t have drank like that, not even for his birthday.”

Cheri shook her head. “Harry was _ not _ trying to kill himself,” she said, but to Peter, her voice sounded shaky, as though she were considering the idea, and realizing that it wasn’t as far-fetched as she was probably hoping. “He… he wouldn’t do something like that.”

“I want to believe that, too,” Peter murmured, “but… I don’t know, Cheri. It’s… it seems like that was what he intended.”

Cheri made a soft noise in the back of her throat, and then she turned and walked away from him down the hall, hand covering her mouth and nose. Peter watched her go, hands in his pockets. Obviously, her reaction had been expected to be something like that, but Peter also knew that she understood where he was coming from. He and Ned had discussed it early that morning, when they’d both gone back to the apartment to sleep, after knowing that Harry was stable. Based on the circumstances, it was the only explanation that they could come up with. Cheri recognized that, too; she just hadn’t allowed herself to think about it. 

In a way, Peter hated being the one to bring it up, but he also knew it was important that everyone close to Harry knew that it was a possibility, and that they probably needed to do something about it, before it happened again. Harry needed help. 

He sighed, and then shuffled towards Harry's hospital room again, slipping inside. Ned had needed to go to class, but Peter, thankfully, had been able to skip his, in order to be with his other friend. Harry was awake now, but he looked very fragile after the night he’d had, involving stomach pumps and other various nastiness to help reset his system. Still, he smiled when Peter walked into the room. 

“Hey,” he said, and he shifted on the bed a bit, sitting up a little. “Cheri run away? She always hated seeing me like this.”

Peter nodded, figuring that was the best response for the moment; they could talk more about the serious aspects once Harry was back home. “She had class,” he said, “but she said she’ll be back later.” He looked down for a moment. “Uhm. We haven’t been able to get in touch with your dad.”

“Yeah, that’s not a surprise,” Harry sighed, shaking his head. “He’s kind of sick of getting calls about me being in the hospital. He probably won’t even call me until he notices the letter from the insurance company about the bill.” He licked at his chapped lips. “Could you get me some more water?” 

“Yeah,” Peter answered, moving to fill a cup for him with the jug on the cart against one wall. He carried it over to him, and Harry took a generous sip. 

“Thanks for staying with me,” he said after a moment, during which Peter had settled down in a chair. “You didn’t have to.”

“Sure I did,” Peter replied. “Didn’t want you to be bored here all day while you get pumped with nutrients.” He nodded to the IV positioned next to the bed. “How’s that feel, by the way?”

“Fine.” Harry looked down at where the needle was stuck into the joint of his elbow, and then shrugged a little. “I’m feeling more revitalized with each passing minute.”

Peter managed a smile in response to that, but Harry knew him well enough to be able to tell that Peter was tiptoeing around him, avoiding the elephant in the room. He kept quiet about it, however, knowing where that talk would lead, and not wanting to deal with it, and especially not feeling as though he’d gotten hit by a truck. 

But he knew that the conversation would happen eventually. He supposed he could take the time between now and then to plot his escape from admitting to his suicide attempt.

* * *

Ned showed up before Cheri did, bringing food with him, which Peter reached for excitedly. He hadn’t been able to eat breakfast before heading to the hospital, but now, seeing that Harry _ was _ looking better with each passing hour, he was able to inhale three burgers in about five minutes. 

Shortly after they finished eating, Cheri arrived. She carried a large instrument case, which Peter thought held a guitar. Harry lifted his eyebrows when he noticed it, and smiled a bit. 

“I get a free concert?” he asked, pleased. “I should poison myself more often.”

“Not funny.” Cheri set the guitar case on the floor and unzipped it, pulling out the instrument on the inside. “And you better listen really close to this song I learned in the last three hours, because it was hard work, and I had to rent this guitar, which cost twenty-five dollars that I did not have to waste.”

“I’ll listen,” Harry said, plaintive. “Obviously. I don’t have any other choice, really, since I’m stuck in this bed.”

Cheri ignored him, and gestured towards a chair. Peter helpfully slid it over to her, even though she was avoiding his eyes. She settled down on the edge of it, supporting the guitar on her knees. The pick she’d pulled from a pouch on the front of the case glittered in the fluorescent lighting of the room. 

“Okay,” she said, and she looked at Harry. “I just want you to know that I love you very much. You’re my best friend in the entire world, and… I don’t know. Just… remember that for me.”

Harry nodded. There was a crease between his eyebrows, indicative of the fact that he had some suspicions about where this was going. Peter did, too, and although he was curious to know what it was that Cheri really planned to do with the guitar she held, he also wasn’t sure if this was necessarily the place to do it. 

Still, she was clearly determined. She positioned her left hand on the neck of the guitar, and her right hand over the strings itself, and started to strum, switching between chords as the song began. Ned inhaled, quietly, clearly recognizing the song. Peter did not, but fuck, from the sound of it, it seemed as though he was going to be trying very hard not to cry by the end of it. 

Cheri licked her lips, and started to sing: 

_ “You say there’s so much you don’t know. _   
_ You need to go and find yourself. _   
_ You say you’d rather be alone, _ _   
‘Cause you think you won’t find it tied to someone else._

_ Ooh, who said it’s true _   
_ That the growing only happens on your own? _ _   
They don’t know me and you._

_ I don’t think you have to leave _   
_ If to change is what you need. _   
_ You can change right next to me. _   
_ When you’re high, I’ll take the lows. _   
_ You can ebb and I can flow. _   
_ And we’ll take it slow _   
_ And grow as we go. _ _   
Grow as we go.”_

There was a break in the lyrics, and Peter glanced over at Harry. He was watching Cheri, the crease between his eyebrows deeper, now. Cheri was very carefully looking at the strings instead of him; Peter thought it was because she didn’t want to see his expression, rather than that she needed to focus on her fingers to make sure she was playing the song correctly. 

_ “You won’t be the only one. _   
_ I am unfinished, I’ve got so much left to learn. _   
_ I don’t know how this river runs _ _   
But I’d like the company through every twist and turn._

_ Ooh, who said it’s true _   
_ That the growing only happens on your own? _ _   
They don’t know me and you. _

_ You don’t ever have to leave _   
_ If to change is what you need. _   
_ You can change right next to me. _   
_ When you’re high, I’ll take the lows. _   
_ You can ebb and I can flow. _   
_ And we’ll take it slow _   
_ And grow as we go. _   
_ Grow as we go. _ _   
Grow as we go.”_

Cheri finally glanced up. Harry turned his gaze away for a moment, and Peter saw his shoulders rise and fall before he looked back at her. She managed a smile for him, and kept going, changing the key she was playing in. 

_ “I don’t know who we’ll become. _   
_ I can’t promise it’s not written in the stars. _   
_ But I believe that when it’s done _   
_ We’re gonna see that it was better _ _   
That we grew up together._

_ Tell me you don’t wanna leave _   
_ ‘Cause if change is what you need, _   
_ You can change right next to me. _   
_ When you’re high, I’ll take the lows. _   
_ You can ebb and I can flow. _   
_ We’ll take it slow, _   
_ And grow as we go. _   
_ Grow as we go. _   
_ Grow as we go. _ _   
Grow as we go.” _

She played a few final chords, and the final one seemed to linger in the air for a moment. She let out a breath, and placed the guitar down into its case again, before looking at Harry. 

“I don’t… I’m not sure if you… meant for what happened last night to be more serious than it ended up being, but… Harry, I promise that there is no reason for you to have felt that way,” she said, quietly. “I mean, look at the people in this room with you. We all love you so much, and we don’t want to lose you. Not before we have to.” 

Harry sniffled, a little, and reached up to wipe at his nose with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking, I just… I don’t know. Sometimes it all just seems kind of pointless.”

“It’s not,” Cheri said, gently. “We’re here for you, and we want to help, if you’ll let us. Let us show you that it isn’t pointless. Please.”

After a moment of silence, Harry nodded, a few times, and Cheri moved to the bed, wrapping her arms around him in a bit of an awkward hug that Harry returned immediately, tears rolling down his cheeks. Ned went over to them as well, and gestured with his head for Peter to do the same, not that he needed any indication to. Harry inhaled, shakily, in the middle of the odd conglomeration they’d put themselves into. 

“Thanks, guys,” he whispered. None of them responded; they didn’t need to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We can pretend that in this universe, Josh Hutchinson is still good looking, and not the actual mess that he's become in recent years. 
> 
> Also, the song Cheri sings is ['Grow As We Go'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aDeNQNtW1f8), by Ben Platt. I did get the idea for this chapter after listening to this song.


	18. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Halloween, and there's a party on campus.

**October 31st, 2021 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“My  _ God, _ Cheri,” Ned said, gaping. 

Cheri grinned, and spun around in a circle. “Not bad, right?” she asked, and Ned blinked a few times, bringing his thoughts back into harbor. 

“Y-yeah, it’s - I mean,  _ fuck, _ do you  _ want _ people to slap your ass?” he asked her, and Cheri laughed. 

“No,” she responded, and reached down into the ankle boots she was wearing, pulling out a small container of pepper spray. “That’s why I have this with me.”

“Who are you, again?” Harry questioned, putting the last bit of his makeup on. 

“Selena,” Cheri responded, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. The sequined brassier she wore under a denim jacket twinkled in the light of the front room of the apartment. “I am fully prepared to sing for anyone who asks me to at this dance.”

“I still can’t believe we’re actually going to this fucking thing,” Harry muttered under his breath, adjusting the tattered shirt he was wearing. He turned to face them both, and Ned cringed backwards, horrified. Harry frowned. “What?” 

“I just - your makeup’s just really scary,” Ned answered. 

“Oh, thanks,” Harry said. “I followed a YouTube tutorial.” 

He’d apparently followed the tutorial very well, because it looked like an entire side of his face was missing the skin. Apparently, this was a high-end zombie makeup look. Ned felt a little underdressed, having elected to go as a mad scientist for the third year in a row. 

“Where’s Peter?” Cheri asked, dropping her bag on the floor next to the couch. 

“Here.” Peter stepped out of the hallway, and they all turned to look at him. Ned saw Cheri’s jaw drop, and really, his bisexuality was suggesting that his do the same. Peter looked  _ hot.  _

He frowned at them, adjusting the glasses he had on. “What?”

“Uhm.” Cheri cleared her throat, and casually crossed her arms. “Who’re you supposed to be?” 

Peter sighed. “I knew it wasn’t going to come across,” he said, and then he held out his arms. “I’m supposed to be Tony Stark. With the… the goatee and the suit and glasses?” His shoulders fell “I guess he’s not as well-known for his look as I thought.”

“Whatever,” Harry said with a sigh. “You’re hot, dude. Girls are going to be all over you, even if they have no idea you’re supposed to be Tony Stark.” 

“I - I am?” Peter asked in surprise, reaching up to adjust the tie he was wearing. “I’m in a three-piece suit and glasses.”

“The facial hair really adds to it,” Ned said, finally managing to suck down the attraction he’d suddenly felt for his friend. He pushed himself to his feet, reaching up to adjust the wig he was wearing. “We ready to go?” 

“Yep,” Harry said, standing as well. Peter must have not really noticed Cheri, yet, because he thought that his eyes were bound to pop out of his head once he did. 

He was right. Peter fiddled with his tie again, and glanced up, his gaze finally landing on Cheri. He blinked about eighty times, and stammered out about fifteen different beginnings to sentences before he landed on, “You look great!” 

Ned and Harry exchanged a long-suffering look before pushing their way out of the apartment ahead of the other two. Cheri was smiling at Peter, however, and she looked down at herself. “Yeah? Thanks.” She hesitated, and then glanced at him. “Do you have the urge to slap my ass?” 

Peter’s eyes went huge. It was almost comical. “Uh. Uhm. I - I don’t… I don’t know what the answer to that is supposed to be,” he managed. “If… if that’s your intention or not.”

Cheri chuckled, and shook her head. “It wasn’t, but Ned asked if that was what I was aiming for, so I… I was wondering if it seemed that way.” She began to button up the jacket. “I dunno. Maybe it is a little much.”

“I mean, it’s true to life, right?” Peter asked her, and Cheri looked at him again. He lifted his shoulders. “I mean. This is what she wore during performances more often than not, right?” She nodded. “So. You just dressed like she would have. That’s all.” He nudged her. “And, hey, if you feel uncomfortable, or, like, someone makes a pass at you, you can have my jacket.”

Cheri smiled a little. “Thanks, Queens,” she said, quietly, and then she gestured with her head. “We should probably go; Ned and Harry are most definitely not waiting for us downstairs.”

“Right, right,” Peter agreed, quickly. “Go ahead.” 

Cheri ducked through the front door, and Peter closed it behind them both, locking it with his key, which he then slid into the inner pocket of his suit jacket alongside his phone. They headed downstairs, and towards ESU’s campus, to join in on the Halloween party and dance.    
It’s about as fun as Harry expected it to be. Although he danced some with his friends, and a few girls that recognized him from class, for the most part, he’d have much rather been back at the apartment, watching  _ Scream  _ and eating popcorn with M&Ms mixed in. He says as much to Ned, at one point, and his friend offers him a consenting grunt, but in that grunt is also a reminder that getting out more often was part of the steps perscribed to him by the therapist he’d gone to see after his suicide attempt. 

Ned was right, of course. But, honestly, Harry could be enjoying his life just as much by being curled up on the couch with the three most important people in his life, making fun of the bad acting and the shitty storyline of some scary movie. 

At least Cheri seems to be having a good time. She’s spent most of the night on the dancefloor in the center of the quad. At some point, her friend Megan had joined her, dressed as Wednesday Addams. The two of them made an interesting pair. Peter watched, a little envious, from the sidelines. If only he didn’t care so much about looking like an idiot in front of everyone (but mostly Cheri). He could dance, sure, but sometimes he felt like he was trying too hard, and that people could tell.

Still, both Ned and Harry noticed his trepidation, and spent a lot of their time trying to convince him to just go out and dance. No one seemed to be ashamed, in any form, whether it be because of terrible dancing, or dancing kind of… dirtily. No doubt a lot of the students were drunk. 

“Maybe that’s what you need,” Harry suggested. “Some liquid confidence.”

Peter snorted. “That wouldn’t help much,” he said. “And besides, I’m not old enough.” Harry scoffed, describing just how stupid  _ that _ excuse was, and Peter had to admit that it was pretty lame, considering how many freshman had been tossing back cups of the spiked punch for over two hours, now. 

“Just  _ go, _ dude,” Ned said, tiredly, from Harry’s other side. “Seriously. You dance with her, I’ll pay you ten dollars.”

“You don’t have ten dollars,” Peter said. 

“That’s how much I want you to just dance with her,” Ned responded. 

Peter pursed his lips. Of course, this was still Ned trying to get him to admit himself that what he felt for Cheri was much more than just a dulled attraction, made easier to handle knowing that they were such good friends. Peter would not give into him so easily, though. 

“Nah,” he said, and shook his head. “This music kind of sucks, anyway.”

Even as he spoke, however, the song changed, to one he recognized immediately, and his shoulders fell when Ned looked over at him, a sly smile on his face. “Music sucks, huh?” he asked, cheekily, and Peter scowled at him in response. 

Cheri jogged over to the three of them, bright-eyed. “Hey!” she exclaimed, holding out both of her hands. “One of you needs to dance with me right now.”

On silent agreement, Harry and Ned both reached over and shoved Peter towards her. Thankfully, because of the dim lighting in the area, Cheri didn’t notice that they did so, and instead thought that Peter had stepped forward willingly. She grinned up at him, taking his hands in hers. “Let’s go!” she said, and tugged him with her towards the dancefloor, where they make a space for themselves amidst the thrumming bodies of other ESU students. 

“I don’t… I mean, I can dance, but like, not great,” Peter said, and Cheri laughed. 

“Just listen to the music, Queens,” she said, lightly. “The lyrics literally tell you what you’re supposed to do.”

She was right, unfortunately, and Peter easily fell into the steps of “The Git Up”, along with the rest of the students on the dancefloor. Cheri danced along beside him, smiling over at him whenever the song called for them to join up with their partner, and Peter, finding himself actually having a good time, smiled back, spinning her under his arm and out.

Ned and Harry watched the two of them from where they’d remained. They exchanged a pleased look, and Harry held out his hand, which Ned slapped with his own. 

“Score for the Crazy Scientist and the Zombie,” he said, and Harry hummed in agreement. 


	19. Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's in therapy. Talk of purposeful self-harm, and other sensitive subjects, but also the good good support of good good friends.

**November 2nd, 2021 - ** **125 E 23rd St Suite 304, Office 1, New York, NY**

“Do you want me to go in there with you?” 

Harry rolled his eyes, and looked at Cheri. “How many times have you come with me, and how many times have you asked me that question?” 

Cheri sighed. “Three.”

“And how many times have I said, “No, I don’t want you to come in the office with me.”?” he asked. 

She adjusted the strap of her bag. “Three,” she murmured, glancing down at the floor. 

“There you go, then,” Harry said. He settled down in one of the chairs of the waiting room. 

Cheri sat down next to him after a moment. “Okay,” she said. “I just thought I’d ask.”

They sat in silence after that, not looking at one another. After a moment, Cheri opened her bag and pulled out a binder. Harry glanced over to see which of her classes it was for, but lost interest when he saw it was some music thing. 

Thankfully, the awkwardness was broken when the door leading into the psychologist office proper opened, and Dr. Piccolo poked his head out. 

“Hey, Harry,” he greeted, opening it wider. “You ready?” 

“Yep,” Harry said, pushing himself to his feet. He walked into the office, and Piccolo closed the door behind him. Harry sat down in the comfy armchair that was meant for patients, and Piccolo took his seat behind his desk. He flipped open the same notebook he always used during their sessions, and then promptly began to scribble something. 

Harry let him, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms with a sigh. It was the same thing every week; Harry wouldn’t talk, and Piccolo wouldn’t force him to. The last three sessions had, as such, been pretty damn unproductive, aside from the one piece of advice Piccolo had given him after their brief chat during the first meeting, when he’d said that Harry needed to get out and do more things that would bring him happiness, and that had been after Harry had quietly admitted that he hadn’t really been happy for a while. He’d only done so because Piccolo had gently probed him with questions that led to that conclusion. 

So, like. If they _ talked, _ they’d probably get something useful done. Harry didn’t like to talk, though, and Piccolo seemed to not like to force his patients _ to _talk. So… 

“What d’you write down in there every week, anyway?” Harry asked, and Piccolo smiled a little, before he held up the notebook. Harry saw that he hadn’t been writing at all, and had been drawing a picture of a cat. Harry lifted an eyebrow, and Piccolo shrugged, setting the notebook back down again. 

“I like to draw,” he explained. “I don’t get a chance to do so, though, so I take the time whenever I have it.” He looked at Harry again. “Your friend out there, she’s always with you.”

Harry nodded. “She’s really worried about me,” he said. 

Piccolo tilted his head. “Is she -?”

“No, absolutely not,” Harry said, shaking his head. “We’ve been friends since we were kids, is all. I think she thinks it’s, like, her job to make sure I don’t -” He cut himself off, and glanced down. “Uhm. Y’know. She worries.”

Piccolo, thankfully, did not focus on the fact that he hadn’t concluded his original sentence. Instead, he said, “Do you have other friends?”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry said. “I live with two of them; we’re all science nerds. We met on a trip to Europe at the end of our senior year. They went to Midtown Tech, and I was at Brooklyn High, so we never crossed paths before then.”

“I see,” Piccolo said. “But you must’ve grown close fairly quickly, if you moved in together.”

“Definitely,” Harry replied. “It was kind of like I’d known them my whole life. That was how it’d been with Cheri, too.” He smiled a bit. “I love them. They’re my best friends.”

“And they worry about you, too?” 

“Yeah,” Harry admitted, quietly. “More than my dad does, anyway.” 

“It is good to have people who care,” Piccolo said. “Surrounding yourself with them will help you see the reasons why they care about you.” 

“Listen, Doc, I have no problems with loving myself,” Harry told him. “Seriously. I’m a genius, I’m not bad looking, and I’m fuckin’ funny.” He waved his hand. “The problem I have is that I’m _ dying, _ and I’m going to die a lot faster than any of the people _ I _ care about, and that sucks.”

Piccolo raised his own eyebrows. “If that’s the case, why would you want to cut the time you _ do _ have with them shorter than it has to be?” he queried, lightly. 

Harry started to retort, but found that he didn’t have an appropriate response. Instead, he coughed into his fist, and looked away again. “Dunno,” he muttered. “Maybe ‘cause if I don’t let them, like… get attached, it’ll hurt less when I bite it.”

“I have to disagree with you,” Piccolo said. 

Harry sighed. “Please explain why,” he said, sarcastically. 

“Gladly,” Piccolo said, and Harry turned his eyes to the ceiling. “Allowing them to lose you quicker than they anticipate will cause them to hurt a hell of a lot more.”

Harry did not reply, and Piccolo picked up the pen he’d been using again, to go back to his scribbling. Several moments of silence passed. Harry glanced at the clock on the wall, and cursed inwardly. Only ten minutes of their thirty minute session had gone by. 

“I don’t think so,” he said, quietly, and Piccolo glanced up. Harry lifted his shoulders. “My mom died when I was three. I didn’t know her well enough to miss her.” 

“You were also a toddler,” Piccolo pointed out. “What do you remember of your life before you were five?” 

“Okay, okay,” Harry sighed. “Whatever. I get it. But like… I’m still right.”

“I don’t think you are,” Piccolo said. “You’d be taking away their chance to make wonderful memories with you, that they’ll be able to recall later on.” 

“Just to make themselves even more depressed?” 

Piccolo met his gaze, evenly. “To help them remember the good, Harry.”

* * *

> _ Pete: Did he let you go in with him? _
> 
> _ Me: Of course not. _
> 
> _ Pete: Shit. I wish we knew if it was working or not. _
> 
> _ Me: I know. You don’t think he’s doing better? _
> 
> _ Pete: I mean, he’s just acting the same as he always did, so I don’t know. _

Cheri exhaled. She should’ve known by now whether or not that meant Harry was doing better, but… she had nothing to compare it to. Harry did a hell of a job hiding whenever he was upset, or hurting, except for when he was doing his best to avoid everyone. Considering he wasn’t _ able _ to do that, now that Cheri, Peter, and Ned were watching him like hawks… well. 

It was hard to know. And Harry wasn’t saying shit. 

The door to the office opened, and Harry walked through. Cheri stood up, doing her best not to seem eager. “How was it?” she asked, managing to sound casual. 

Harry shrugged. “Same as always,” he said. “Let’s go; I’m hungry.”

Cheri followed him out of the building without argument, even though she was examining him closely, trying to see if there was anything off about him. She thought there was a tiny hunch to his shoulders, that was more pronounced than normal, but she couldn’t be positive. 

She let him choose what they got to eat, and then they took it back to his apartment. Peter was there, and he smiled over at them as they walked in. 

“Hey,” he greeted. “How’d it go?”

“Shrank my brain,” Harry replied, setting one of the bags he was carrying straight onto the coffee table. “We come bearing food.”

“Thanks,” Peter said. He looked at Cheri, who could only shrug her shoulders in response to his silent question. “Did you actually talk to him this time?” Peter continued, turning back to Harry, who shrugged his own shoulders. 

“A little, I guess,” he replied. “I mean, he asked about my friends and stuff, so.” 

“You spilled all our secrets, then?” Cheri queried, smiling at him as she started to unload containers of food. 

“Yep,” Harry said, settling down on the couch. “Every last one of them. It’s easier to tell other people’s secrets than your own, right?” Peter and Cheri exchanged another glance, which Harry noticed, this time. He sighed a little. “It’s just a joke, guys.”

“We know,” Peter said. “But… the point of this whole thing is to help _ you, _ not us.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Harry replied. 

“So?” Cheri asked. 

Harry tilted his head backwards a little, studying the ceiling for a moment. “He made me feel bad, all right?” he finally said, and turned his attention to the food. 

Cheri furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?” 

Harry shook his head. “Just - he pointed out that maybe it was kind of shitty of me to… do what I did, and, like, try and rob you guys of whatever years you could have with me if I let this thing run its course naturally.” He shrugged again. “Not that that was my intention, obviously; I thought that it’d be easier.” 

“It would not be,” Peter said. “At least we’ll be able to expect it, later on, when it gets closer to the… correct time. We weren’t expecting it to happen on your birthday.” He winced, hating how uncomfortable he felt discussing this. “Just. It’ll be easier to take when, like, we know it’s going to happen. You know? Ten or twenty years from now, rather than, like, next week.”

Harry did not look at him, and Peter’s shoulders fell. He nudged Cheri with his elbow, but received nothing in response. The front room was oppressively silent. 

Thankfully, the front door opened after a few minutes. Ned walked through it, humming a little to himself, headphones on. He noticed pretty quickly that there was food available, however, and he tugged the headphones off, grinning. 

“Hey,” he said, walking over and picking up one of the containers. “How’d it go?” 

“Fine,” Harry said. “Apparently, killing myself isn’t the way to make sure that you guys aren’t sad when I die. Who knew?” 

With that, he turned and stalked out of the front room. Peter winced when his bedroom door slammed. Cheri released a breath, and hurried after him. Exchanging a look, Peter and Ned followed. 

“Harry?” Cheri leaned her forehead against his door. “Harry, we weren’t trying to upset you. I’m sorry.” 

“Go away,” came the muffled response from the other side of the door. “I just want to be by myself for a little while, all right?” 

“I feel like that’s a mistake we’ve already made too many times,” Peter commented, joining Cheri at the door. “I don’t want to make it again.” 

“Me, either,” Ned agreed, slipping between the two of them. He leaned his hand against the door. “Don’t make me start singing at you, Harold, because I will.”

“Stop threatening me.” Harry’s reply was dry; he clearly didn’t want to talk to them, anymore. “Leave me alone, seriously. I can’t kill myself with anything that’s in here, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Harry, we’re worried about _ you,” _ Ned said, sharply. He looked sideways at Cheri. “Did he ever get like this when you guys were younger?” 

“Yes,” Cheri admitted with a sigh. 

“So? How’d you deal with it back then?” Ned asked. 

Cheri looked at the door for a moment, her expression one that seemed to read that she was having an internal debate. 

Unsurprisingly, however, she eventually closed her eyes, and leaned her forehead against the door again, and started to sing: 

_ “What about love? _ _   
_ _ I never mentioned love. _ _   
_ _ The timing’s bad, I know -” _

“Jesus _ Christ,” _ Harry exclaimed from the other side. “Knock it _ off.” _

Cheri looked at Peter, who nodded encouragingly. Any display of emotion was better than the nothing that Harry _ had _ been giving them, even if it was anger. Cheri pressed forward. 

_ “But perhaps, if I’d made it more clear _ _   
_ _ That you belong right here _ _   
_ _ You wouldn’t have to go. _ _   
_ _ ‘Cause you’d know that I’m so much in love…” _

“Cheri, seriously,” Harry said, hotly. “Fuck off.”

_ “Please, will you open the door?” _

“No! For fuck’s sake!” 

_ “We both know you’re worth so much more…” _

“I’m going to open the door just to strangle you. How does that sound?”

Cheri closed her eyes again. 

_ “If you can hear, can I just say, _ _   
_ _ How much I want you to stay?” _

The door flew open, and Peter immediately moved around Harry, to make sure that he wouldn’t be able to retreat back into the room. Harry barely noticed, trying instead to reach Cheri, probably to make good on his promise to strangle her. Ned got in his way, and Harry thrashed against him for a moment. 

“Why can’t you motherfuckers understand what a _ closed fucking door _ means?” he demanded. 

“We don’t close doors to friends that want to help in _ this _ house!” Ned shouted back, whacking his arms down. 

“Why are you pissed about the fact that we don’t want you to die?” 

Silence fell after Peter’s quietly voiced question. All of the fight seemed to go out of Harry immediately. He slumped, finding stability by resting his head on Ned's shoulder.

“I’m not - I’m pissed at myself,” he mumbled. 

Cheri finally moved in closer again, no longer worried that Harry was going to attack her. “Well, good,” she said, softly. “You should be. But don’t you get that we’re trying to make it so that you don’t ever think that that’s the only course of action you can take to keep from hurting us?” 

“We don’t want you to die before you have to,” Ned put in when Harry didn’t respond. “It - we want you to stay around as long as possible. You cutting and running before then would suck a hell of a lot more.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “It - I mean, it sucks that that’s the conclusion we have to come to, but it’s true. Since we know that you’re going to die _ eventually, _ we’d rather have as much time as possible with you before then. And, like, don’t you want to make sure that we have plenty of good things to remember about you by the time you go?”

Harry sighed a little. “I get it,” he said, quietly. “And I’m sorry, okay? I just - I’ve never really dealt with someone close to me dying, except for my mom, and it… I guess I thought it’d be easier for you guys if you knew me for less time, which is how it was for me with her.” 

“Harry, I’ve known you since we were kids,” Cheri told him. “It’s always going to suck, no matter when it happens, but I really think it’ll suck less if I have more time with you, and can, like, prepare myself for it.” 

“Well, you’re always going to be the exception,” Harry mumbled. “Butt head.”

Cheri managed a smile at that. “Yeah, I know,” she agreed, and she sounded tired. “But if that’s the case, then…”

“I’m not going to try to kill myself again,” Harry said. 

“But you get why, right?” Ned prompted, and he shrugged. 

“Because,” Peter began, and he held up fingers to indicate each reason he listed off. “We don’t want you to die too soon. We want you to be around for a long as possible. We _ love _ you. And, like, you love us, right?” 

“Of course I do,” Harry said, softly. 

“Okay then. So that’s another reason,” Peter said. 

“And you want to be a kick-ass environmentalist, too, right?” Ned asked him. 

“Yeah.”

“So you need to make that happen before you die, too,” Ned concluded. 

“And just… you don’t want to leave us until your body can’t… do it anymore,” Cheri added. Harry nodded, and she dropped her shoulders. “Okay.” 

“So… we’re good?” Ned asked, looking between her and Harry. 

“We’re good,” Harry said after a moment, and Ned let out a sigh of relief. 

“Great." He hesitated for another moment, just to be sure, and then said, "I’m gonna go get some food.” He jogged off down the hall and out into the front room. Peter remained where he was for a moment before he cleared his throat. 

“I’m gonna do that, too,” he said, and followed Ned’s lead, leaving Harry and Cheri alone in the hall outside Harry’s room. 

After a moment, Cheri reached out with her fist and nudged Harry’s shoulder. “I love you, you tit,” she said, smiling again. 

Harry returned it. “Love you too,” he said. “Shrew.”

Cheri gestured with her head, and they both walked back into the front room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't make up Dr. Piccolo; apparently, he's a real-life psychologist who works out of the exact address I used for this chapter. I know because I looked up 'psychologists in Manhattan' in order to write this chapter.


	20. The First Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It snows. ESU students love it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could say this was a mood but I fuckin' hate snow.

**November 9th, 2021 - Empire State University - Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“It’s snowing!” 

The proclamation rang through the library, which had been completely silent until that point. Peter looked up, and glanced around, unsurprised to see a majority of students that had been littering the library’s first floor making a break for the doors, wanting to get their eyes on the first snow of the year. He smiled a little to himself, and returned his attention to his studying. He liked snow as much as the next person, but his upcoming test was just the slightest bit more important. 

At least, this was the way he  _ intended _ to think, until he felt his phone vibrate within his pocket. He pulled it out, and glanced at the text he’d received. 

> _ Cheri: Where the hell are you??  _
> 
> _ Me: Library, studying. _
> 
> _ Cheri: Absolutely not. Get your ass out to the courtyard; a big snowball fight’s breaking out! _

Peter sighed, and put his phone away again. He looked down at his notes once more, ignoring the yells and squeals that he could hear coming from outside the library. He  _ really _ need to study. Maybe, at this point, the best choice would be to remove himself from campus entirely, so that he could focus a bit better. It wasn’t like he couldn’t walk back for his afternoon class. 

Before he could make up his mind, however, the library doors opened, and Cheri came inside, searching the space for him. He was easy to spot, considering he was the only one still inside, and she immediately hurried over to him, stopping next to the table he sat at. 

“C’mon,” she said. “Let’s go.”

“I need to study, Cher,” he told her. “Seriously. This test is a fourth of my final grade in this class.” 

“But it’s  _ snowing, _ Pete,” she insisted. She took his wrist in his hand. “Please? Five minutes. Then you can come back in here and be boring.” 

“It isn’t being boring,” Peter said, patiently, “it’s wanting to keep up my GPA so I don’t lose my scholarship.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Cheri said. “My professor literally let out class early so we could go out in the snow. Come  _ on.” _

Peter studied her for a moment, before giving in. It wasn’t as though he could say  _ no _ to her, when she was looking at him the way she was. He pushed himself to his feet, and Cheri grinned, tugging him after her to the doors of the library. They pushed their way out into the cold, and Peter smiled himself, catching sight of the courtyard. 

Students were all over the place, chucking the thin collection of snow that had gathered on the ground at one another. A couple were gathering as much as they could into a small space, in order to give building a snowman a try. Others still were laying flat on their backs and spreading out their arms and legs to create snow angels. The first snow was always a pretty big deal. 

Cheri pulled him down the steps of the library into the courtyard proper, and then let go of his wrist, leaning her head back and sticking out her tongue. She caught a snowflake on it pretty easily, and then looked over at him, beaming, her eyes bright. Some flakes had caught in her curls, and they glinted prettily against the dark brown of her hair. Others still were collecting on her eyelashes. Bundled up in a dark blue peacoat, she looked beautiful. 

Peter was so busy watching her that he almost didn’t catch the fleeting warning his senses offered him as a snowball flew through the air towards the side of his head. He ducked with maybe half-a-milisecond to spare, and then spun in the direction it had come from. Cheri’s friend Megan stood with her arm still in the remainder of a throwing motion, her cheeks and nose pink from the cold, stark in contrast to her red hair. 

“Hey!” Peter exclaimed, but he was grinning. He bent down to gather up some snow himself, only to be smacked square in the back by a different snowball. He didn’t have to turn to know it had come from Cheri, considering he hadn’t sensed it. He threw the ball he’d prepared in Megan’s direction, then turned back to Cheri, who was smirking, holding another snowball. 

“Reflexes can’t catch everything, huh?” she teased. 

“Not fair,” Peter retorted. “Two against one.”

“Sounds like you need a hero!” a new voice shouted, and then a snowball was splatting against Cheri’s shoulder. She exclaimed, and spun around to face Ned, who was laughing. “I got you, Peter!” he said, waving his arms. “Two on two!” 

Peter laughed, and bent down to gather more snow. He dodged nimbly out of the way of another snowball that Megan chucked at him, before throwing his own at Cheri, who ducked. It still managed to hit her, and she cursed, throwing her own snowball at Ned, who’d thrown one at Megan. 

“Augh, it got in my jacket!” she exclaimed, and threw a retaliation ball at him. Ned grunted as it hit him in the thigh, and he stumbled a bit. Cheri took the opportunity to try and throw another at him, but a snowball of Peter’s caught her in the back before she could. She twisted and threw hers at him instead, and Peter let it hit him on the side. 

Ned yelped when one of Megan’s snowballs hit him on the back of the head, and she cackled, ducking down to avoid one that Peter chucked towards her. 

“Retribution!” he heard Cheri shout, and then he was being tackled into the snow on the ground, Cheri on top of him. 

“Hey!” Peter said, but he was laughing, surprised that he felt the tiniest bit breathless. It was probably the adrenaline. And the fact that Cheri was laying on top of him, looking gorgeous. “This is not how a snowball fight works,” he told her. 

“Eh,” was her response. They gazed at one another for a moment, before she grinned, and rolled off of him, bouncing up to her feet. “We won.”

“What?” Ned demanded, approaching, Megan behind him. “That’s not how this works!” 

“Sure it is,” Megan told him. “Your partner was taken down.” 

“In an unfair tackle!” Peter said, accepting the hand that Cheri offered down to him. She helped pulled him upright, and he brushed some snow out of his hair and off his back. “But, whatever. I need to get back in the library, anyway.” He hesitated, then said, “But I should take a picture, first.”

“Ooh, good idea,” Cheri agreed. “Here.” She tugged Ned and Megan closer to her, slinging her arms around their shoulders and offering Peter a big, cheesy smile. “Take a picture of us!”

Peter pulled out his phone, and did as she said, chortling at the funny faces all three of them made. He examined the picture for a moment, smiling, and then he put his phone back into his pocket. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll see you at home, Ned?”

“Mhm,” Ned said, but he’d been distracted by the snow again, namely, the snow that Megan had just dumped down the back of his coat. They turned back to their fight, and Peter shook his head to himself, amused, before heading towards the library again. He only realized Cheri was following after he’d reached the steps. 

“What’re you doing?” he asked her, frowning a bit. 

“I’m gonna help you study,” she answered easily. 

Peter lifted an eyebrow. “Why?” he asked. “Don’t you want to play in the snow?” 

Cheri shrugged. “Sure, but it’ll snow again,” she said. “Besides, I’d rather help you make sure you get a good grade.” She smiled a him. “Considering you’d do the same thing for me, right?” 

“Of course,” Peter said immediately.

“Okay, then,” Cheri said. She pulled open the library door, and gestured inside. “Let’s do this thing.”

Peter walked through the door, doing his best to hide the smile that had broken out on his face from her as he went. 


	21. Hangman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's good to take a break and just play a game of hangman.

**November 20th, 2021 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“Peter. Peter. Peter.”

“What?” he asked tiredly, looking over at Cheri, who was holding a notebook and a pencil out to him. He took this in, and then met her eyes, eyebrows lifting. “What are you giving me these for?” he asked her.

“Hangman,” she replied, and leaned forward a little, adopting her Griffin McElroy voice, which still terrified him with its accuracy. “Play with me!” 

Despite this, Peter was not prepared to give in. “Cher, I’m busy,” he said, gesturing to his laptop, which was currently open to a 3D model of a prototype he’d constructed for his biomaterials class that was due at midnight. 

“I know,” she said, lightly, in her normal voice. “You need to take a break. Thus: hangman.”

Peter sighed a little, and glanced over his model for another moment before he saved the project and set the laptop down on the coffee table. He took the pencil and notebook from her, and examined the dashes that were currently holding the place of letters beneath the drawing of the gallows. 

“Do vowels cost more?” he asked after a moment. 

“No,” Cheri said, frowning. “This is just for fun. What kind of games of hangman have you been playing?” 

“You don’t want to know,” Peter replied, thinking of the long plane ride he’d shared with Ned after their senior year of high school on the class trip to Europe. It had gotten pretty ugly, ugly enough that MJ had reached over the back of the seat in front of them and taken the notebook they’d been using away. 

Peter examined the puzzle for another moment, before taking a first guess. “S?” 

“Yeah! Two of them.” Cheri pointed out the spots, and Peter filled them in. He considered the first one, which happened to be the first letter of the first word, and considered what letters would be likely to follow an ‘s’. 

“H.” 

“Two again!” Cheri said, surprised. She pointed, and said, “Why’re you good?” 

“Oh, buddy, you have no idea,” Peter said. He now had four letters in the first word, and none in the second of the puzzle, but based on those four letters alone, he knew exactly what the answer was already. “Shawshank Redemption.”

“Goddammit!” Cheri exclaimed, and Peter grinned, filling in the rest of the letters. “How’d you get that so quickly?” 

“I’m a genius, duh,” he replied, easily. “And also, I love that movie. And book. It’s kind of a book.”

“It’s my favorite Stephen King book turned movie,” Cheri said, and Peter looked over at her, smiling. 

“Mine too.”

Cheri clicked her tongue. “I knew I liked you for a reason.” She waved her hand at the notebook. “Come up with one for me.”

“You sure you don’t want to try and stump me?” Peter asked, and Cheri snorted. 

“As if I could.”

“All right,” Peter said, “but I’m not gonna go easy on you.”

“I don’t expect you to,” Cheri replied, easily, crossing her arms. “Go for it.”

Peter flipped the page, and redrew the gallows, before considering. What phrase could he do that would be tricky enough, but not take her forever to maybe figure out? 

“Do you want to pick a category?” he asked her after a moment, and Cheri considered before smiling. 

“Vine.” 

“Oh, shit, I got you,” Peter said, and he very quickly drew dashes to represent a quotable Vine. He then handed her the notebook and pencil. “Go.”

Cheri examined the puzzle, a quizzical look on her face. “Okay,” she said after a moment. “Mm. Okay. M.”

“Mhm,” Peter said, and he pointed to the correct spaces. Cheri frowned almost at once. 

“Well. That ruins my initial thought,” she said after a moment. “Okay. Uh… four letter words that start with M… oh! I.” 

Peter groaned. “You’re one of those people that does it a word at a time!” he said, and Cheri shrugged. 

“Narrows it down.”

“That’s the cheap way.”

“No, it’s not!” Cheri replied, hotly. “Is there an I or not?” 

“Yes, there’s an I,” Peter said, and he pointed to the space where it went. Cheri went ahead and filled in LK behind that. The puzzle then looked like: 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _m_ milk

Cheri chortled, and filled in the rest of the puzzle. “He needs some milk!” she said, mimicking the voice in the Vine, and Peter laughed. 

“All right, this was fun,” Peter said, “but I really need to finish this model.”

“Fine,” Cheri responded, sounding a little sad. She scooted over on the couch, creating more room between them again. Peter glanced at her from the corner of his eye, watching as she flipped to a different page in her notebook, and reached for her bag. He smiled a little to himself, and grabbed his laptop again. 

The break had been a good idea; looking at the model, now, he could clearly see what the issue with it was, and he very easily fixed the equation that was leading to it. His smile softened, a little, as he looked over at Cheri again. She glanced at him, an eyebrow cocked. 

“Thanks for making me take a break,” he said. “Seriously. It helped.”

“Of course it did,” Cheri said, although she had turned away again, clearly a little sheepish. “No need to thank me.”

Peter chuckled, and saved the model, before submitting it to the dropbox online.

* * *

A few days later, he woke up to an email from his professor with a thumb’s up emoji and a 50/50 score. He grinned to himself, took a screenshot of the email, and texted it to Cheri.

> _ Me: It really helped.  _
> 
> _ Cheri: queens it’s five in the morning go back to sleep.  _

Peter snorted, and rolled over onto his other side, leaving his phone where it was on the bedside table. 

After that, though, it was not a rare occurrence for him to text Cheri while working on something, and ask,  _ Hangman? Need a break. _ Within two minutes, he’d receive a picture of a puzzle in response. Perhaps it wasn’t the most practical way of playing hangman, but it helped. 

And he appreciated knowing that Cheri was always willing to send a puzzle, no matter when he asked for one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These short little baby tidbits are fun to write.   
Also, in case you don't know what Griffin McElroy saying "Play with me!" sounds like: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z2f9bz5_2dM>


	22. Skating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Instead of continuing to study for finals, the crew goes ice skating. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

**December 8th, 2021 - 71nd Ave., Manhattan New York, NY, USA**

“You ready?” Peter queried, and Cheri shook her head, flipping through different pieces of sheet music. 

“I don’t think so,” she sighed. “It’s - I mean, for the most part, I’m  _ fine, _ I guess, but I don’t know if it’s better than a C-worthy fine, you know?”

“C’s get degrees!” Ned said helpfully from where he was sprawled out on the floor behind the couch, face planted into the middle of one of his textbooks. 

“Not for me,” Cheri said, “I have to keep a 3.0 GPA or I lose my scholarship.” She rested her chin in her hand, gazing despondently down at her study guides. “I hate this.” 

“You’ll be okay,” Peter assured. “You’ve acted like this the past two semesters, too.”

“Yeah,” Cheri agreed with a sigh. “You’re right. And, realistically, I feel better about these classes than I did about last year’s, so.” She waved her hand at the music. “Still.”

“Maybe we need a break,” Peter suggested after a moment, and Ned sat up straight, eyes wide. 

“Yes, a break,  _ please,”  _ he begged. “I don’t care what it is, but I want it.”

Cheri leaned back against the couch. “When’s the last time you guys went ice skating?” she queried, an eyebrow cocked, and Ned’s excitement faded very rapidly. 

“Oh, no, no ice skating,” he said. “I don’t do that.” 

“C’mon,” Cheri said, looking over the couch at him. “It’ll be fun. You can hang onto me. Harry always does.” 

“I always do what?” Harry asked, lumbering out of the hallway. He had a post it stuck to his forehead; Peter assumed it was because he’d fallen asleep at his desk in the midst of studying. 

“Hang onto me when we go ice skating,” Cheri answered. She stood and walked over to him, peeling the post-it off his head. She handed it to him, and he blinked down at it, before looking at Peter, frowning. 

“I don’t remember writing this,” he said, quietly, and Peter smiled, rising as well. 

“I think ice skating sounds great,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

“Yeah,” Cheri agreed, smiling at him. “But we’re going to Central Park, because we can ice skate for as long as we want too, there. Rockefeller Center sucks.” She paused. “But I need to go home first, because my skates are there, obviously.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Then it’d probably be easier to just find a rink in Brooklyn, dummy,” he told her, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “LeFrak’s open.”

“Oh, good,” Cheri said, and she looked at Peter. “So?” 

He shrugged. “Sounds good to me.” He walked around the couch and tugged Ned to his feet. “We’re in.”

“Great!” Cheri said, cheerfully. “I’ll drive.” 

“Duh,” Harry sighed, and headed back towards his room. “I guess I’ll get dressed in five layers!” 

“Probably should make it six,” Ned grumbled, following after him.

* * *

Peter felt bad about how much better he was at ice skating than Ned and Harry. Like… it almost wasn’t fair. He watched from the center of the rink as his friends clung to the side of it, their feet rapidly kicking out ahead of and behind them as they struggled to get a reign on their balance, without much success. Cheri had long since abandoned them both after failing to convince them to move away from the edges, and now she skated circles around Peter, humming as she went. 

“Come on,” she encouraged, skidding to a halt in front of him. “Stop watching. Eventually they’ll move away from it. Harry does, usually, and I’m sure Ned would rather be with us than alone.” 

“They look like baby deer learning how to walk,” Peter said, and Cheri grinned, taking his hands in hers. 

“Skate with me,” she said, and they spun in a wide circle. Cheri almost nailed someone else who was practicing jumps in the center, but Peter quickly tugged her out of the way before they could collide. Gravity pulled her towards him, and she squeaked, grabbing the front of his jacket to keep her balance. Peter gripped her around the waist. 

“You good, Treble Clef?” he asked, a little amused, and Cheri glanced up at him, wide-eyed. 

“I almost ate shit,” she said, breathless. Peter laughed. 

“I’ve got you,” he assured. 

After another moment, she breathed outwards, her breath an icy cloud in the space between them. She then skated backwards, very carefully, hanging onto him until she was completely upright. She let go of his jacket, and nodded to herself, planting her hands on her waist, which Peter had let go of. 

“Okay,” she said. “Sorry. I guess I’m not as good as I used to be. When we were younger, Harry and I’d be at a rink somewhere almost every weekend during winter. I used to want to be a professional skater, but really, I think I was more into the idea of coming up with routines that were based on music.” 

Peter smiled in response. “You’d probably be good at that,” he said, and Cheri ducked her head bashfully. 

“Yeah, it was fun to think about,” she said, and then she glanced towards where Harry and Ned had been. They’d managed to make it a quarter of the way around the rink since she’d last looked at them. Harry was waving one hand towards where she and Peter were in the middle of the rink, while Ned shook his head frantically, his skates skidding beneath him as he hung onto the wall. 

“I feel kind of bad,” she admitted after a moment, looking at Peter again. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Maybe we should help them.” 

Cheri nodded, and they both skated towards their friends, stopping in front of them. 

“Hey,” Peter said, and he held out his hand to Ned. “C’mon, I’ll skate with you.”

Ned scowled at his hand. “I will pull you down onto your ass,” he said, hotly. “Leave me here to struggle.”

Peter smirked. “You know that I’m willing to fall on my ass for you,” he said, kindly, and Ned glanced at him again. Peter gestured with his head. “Trust me.”

Ned sighed a little. “I do,” he mumbled. “God help me.” He set his hand in Peter’s, and when Peter held out his other one, he let go of the wall to take that as well. His legs quivered as Peter skated backwards a little, pulling Ned along with him. 

“There, see?” Peter asked, smiling down at their skates. He glanced up at Ned. “Not so bad, right?” 

“Just shut up,” Ned said, his cheeks flushed. He looked up, and frowned. “Well, they seem to be doing fine,” he muttered, jerking his chin. 

Peter glanced over his shoulder, and smiled when he saw how easily Harry was skating along next to Cheri, holding onto her hand. She was grinning encouragingly at him, no doubt offering him tips as they went along. She convinced him to let go after a moment, and Harry held out his hands to either side, skidding along over the ice. 

“One foot in front of the other, Harry,” Cheri said, and she showed him. “Push off with your back foot.” 

Harry did as she suggested, and he skated along in the middle of the rink, smiling a bit to himself as he got the hang of it. He looked at her. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “I’m getting it.”

“You always do, eventually,” Cheri agreed. She looked towards where Peter was still towing Ned along with him, and said “I’m gonna go help them. You good?” 

“Probably,” Harry said, “but if you hear ice cracking, it’s ‘cause I fell and broke through.”

“You weigh 130 pounds soaking wet,” Cheri retorted, and skated towards Ned and Peter. She stopped beside them, layering the bottom of Ned’s jeans with ice. “You doing okay over here?” 

“I think you got the easier student,” Peter told her. 

“I  _ don’t ice skate,” _ Ned said, dryly. 

“Here,” Cheri said, and she took one of Ned’s hands into hers instead, skating up alongside him. It shifted his weight a little, so that he was more balanced on his own skates, rather than letting Peter support most of him. He had to focus on staying upright between the two of them instead. “There you go,” Cheri said, smiling. 

Ned looked very embarrassed. “Yeah, check me out,” he muttered, “skating along between my mom and dad like a fucking toddler.”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Cheri said, thoughtfully. “Do you want me to go get you one of the walkers that the little kids use?” 

“Shut the hell up,” Ned grumbled in response. Cheri grinned over at Peter, and he managed a smile back, although Ned’s comment about himself and Cheri acting as his parents had hit him somewhere in the throat and was making it very hard for him to swallow properly. 

“GANGWAY!” 

“Shit,” Cheri muttered, and Peter had just enough time to stumble backwards before Harry slammed into Ned, knocking him to the ice. Cheri was tugged down as well, still attached to Ned by the hand, and she landed on top of the both of them. 

Peter couldn’t help it; he burst into hysterics, hunching over at the waist as his friends struggled to untangle themselves from one another. Cheri noticed him laughing, and she frowned, before reaching out and gripping him around the back of the knee. Peter cursed, and fell onto his ass, sending up an array of loose ice. It was Cheri’s turn to laugh, and Peter scowled at her, wincing. 

“Fuck,” he said, pushing himself onto his knees. “That actually hurt.” 

“Good,” Cheri told him, and she climbed back upright. She winced, cradling her right wrist in her left hand. “Ouch.” 

“No one has a right to complain except me,” Ned grumbled, sitting up. He held the back of his head with one hand, and glowered at Harry. “What the fuck, man?” 

“I lost control,” Harry admitted tiredly, cupping his elbow, which had hit the ice pretty hard. “Fuck, that sucked.” 

Peter stood, his ass aching, and bent down to help Ned up as well. Cheri leaned over to help Harry. On silent agreement, all four of them skated over to the entrance of the rink. 

“Why is it we can never just have a good time?” Cheri sighed as they sank down onto a couple of benches. “It’s always something when it comes to the four of us.” 

“I just need a second to catch my breath,” Ned said. “Harry knocked the wind out of me.”

“You landed wrong,” Harry mumbled. 

“You ran into me!” 

“On  _ accident.” _

“I’d be perfectly fine, if Cheri hadn’t knocked me down,” Peter said, glaring at her. She stuck her tongue out at him in response. 

“It’s what you get, for laughing at us,” she said, hotly. Her wrist was still throbbing. “Ugh, goddamn. I think I’m calling it quits; my wrist really fucking hurts.” 

“Yeah, so does my ass, but you don’t see me complaining,” Peter grunted, tugging off one of his skates. 

Ned rubbed at the back of his head for a moment, and then he glanced upwards. “Whoa,” he said, and he pointed. “Looks, guys.” 

They all did, and Cheri’s mouth fell open. “Stars,” she said, breaking into a smile. 

Hundreds of them, glittering overhead in a way that they never did, not over New York, not unless you were way upstate, and high up in the mountains. 

“Wow,” Harry said, after a moment. He laughed, and Cheri looked at him. He glanced at her, and she brushed his arm with her elbow in affection. Harry smiled, and brushed her back. 

She then looked over at Peter, who was still staring up at the sky. She reached out, nudged him with the back of her hand. His gaze lowered to hers. 

“We’re cool, right?” she asked, and he grinned. 

“Yeah, of course,” he said. “I should’ve fallen with you guys when Harry ran into Ned.” 

“Okay, good,” Cheri said, relieved. She looked up at the sky again, and let out a laugh of her own. “I still can’t believe it. Where’d they come from?” 

“It’s probably because the air is thinner,” Peter suggested. “I mean, still polluted, obviously, but since it’s cold out -”

“We get it,” Harry said, and Ned snickered. Peter rolled his eyes, and Cheri grinned, leaning over to pull off her skates. 

They made their way away from the rink and back towards where Cheri had parked her car. Ned and Harry went on ahead, discussing whether or not there was stuff to make hot chocolate back at the apartment. Cheri stayed behind next to Peter, walking a little bit more slowly. Peter matched her pace, until the others were out of ear shot. 

“Do you know what you’re doing for break, yet?” she asked him, and he lifted his shoulders. 

“May and I spend Christmas together,” he said. “I go to Queens on Christmas Eve and spend a few days there. Last year, I was at the apartment on New Year’s with Ned and Harry. You probably know that Harry’s dad doesn’t really do holidays.”

“Yeah,” Cheri said. “Sometimes, Harry’ll invite himself over to my place, because he knows that my mom and  _ abuela _ have a soft spot for him. Last year, though, he didn’t.”

“He came to May’s with me,” Peter explained. “I uh… I don’t know. I don’t want to feel bad for him, because it doesn’t seem to bother him, but I know that it has to, at least a little, right?” 

Cheri nodded. “I’ve learned not to ask him about it.” She smiled up at him. “I’m glad he has a place to spend New Year’s for sure, anyway.”

Peter lifted his shoulders. “This year, Stark Industries has a big party they’re throwing; it’s like a celebration of eighty years since it started, or something,” he said. “All three of you are invited; I probably won’t go if you guys don’t.”

“We’re more fun than some corporate party,” Cheri said, and Peter laughed in response. 

“Yeah, definitely,” he agreed. “But it’s an option, if we get bored at the apartment or something.”

It was only then that he realized that if Cheri attended the Stark Industries party, it meant that he’d have to introduce her to Tony, probably, and that was not something he wanted to do. Doing so would open him up to endless teasing from his mentor, and he didn’t think he could take it from Tony, too, not when it already came so heavily from Ned and Harry. 

That was part of the reason he hadn’t even introduced her to May; she was better about leaving him alone when it came to personal stuff like girls than Tony and his friends, but meeting May would mean an introduction of Cheri to stories from his childhood. The last thing he needed was for his aunt to expose him to the girl he was maybe-sort-of still attracted to. And maybe wanted to date. And kiss. A lot. 

Until that was more likely to happen, though, he’d keep his family separate from Cheri. Besides, he’d only barely met her mother, and that was at a general event which they’d both attended for Cheri’s sake, not because Cheri had wanted them to meet. Meeting the family was a serious thing; he didn’t think he could handle her meeting his, not when there was so much else he had to keep from her, and not when he wasn’t even sure that their relationship was ever going to get past the friendship level. 

Then again, maybe he was just making things harder on himself than they needed to be. After all, he knew Ned’s family, and had met Harry’s dad a few times. It wasn’t  _ weird _ for friends to know one another’s families. Maybe he could consider it. At least, consider her meeting May, if not Tony. 

_ Yeah, _ he thought to himself.  _ Maybe after the holidays, once we’re into spring semester. Even if Cheri and I only stay friends… we’re close friends. Close friends know each others’ families. It’s not weird. _

No. Not weird at all. And, if their relationship ever  _ did _ go past friendship (not that Peter thought it would, or hoped it would, or anything like that), then it would be easier, because May would already know Cheri, and they wouldn’t have to deal with that awkwardness. 

_ Good plan, _ he decided, climbing into the front seat of Cheri’s car. In the back seat, Ned and Harry were arguing about whether marshmallows belonged in hot chocolate. Cheri grinned at him, rolling her eyes in an affectionate  _ These two idiots _ sort of way. Peter smiled back, and buckled his seatbelt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not slacking, I'm cat-sitting, there's a difference.


	23. Midnight On Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A text series from December 25th, 2021.

**December 25th, 2021 - Text Series Retrieved From Stark Phone Mark IX**

> _ **Cher (11:50 PM):** Merry Christmas, Queens! :) _
> 
> _ **Me (11:51 PM):** You too, Treble Clef. It’s almost midnight. I’m surprised you’re still awake.  _
> 
> _ **Cher (11:52 PM):** Believe it or not, this was the first time I could pull my phone out today. Been busy cooking and Christmas-ing all day long.  _
> 
> _ **Me (11:52 PM):** Ah. How’s Harry?  _
> 
> _ **Cher (11:53 PM):** Fast asleep. I may have to roll him out of my bed and onto the air mattress that he’s supposed to be sleeping on instead.  _
> 
> _ **Me (11:54 PM):** Hah. Make sure you take a picture of that.  _
> 
> _ **Cher (11:54 PM):** Duh. You want it?  _
> 
> _ **Me (11:55 PM):** Obviously.  _
> 
> _ **Me: (11:56 PM)** Ooh, draw something on his face.  _
> 
> _ **Cher (11:56 PM):** We’re basically the same person.  _
> 
> _ **Cher (11:56 PM):** Fuck, he’s waking up. Gotta go!  _
> 
> _ **Cher (11:58 PM):** I’m going to kill you both.  _
> 
> _ **Me (11:58 PM):** Merry Christmas to you too, Harry. <3 _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish you happy holidays, whomever you may be! Merry Christmas, Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, or, heck, all three.


	24. January 14th, 2022

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Venus has never looked so bright.

**71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“So… what’re we waiting for?” Ned asked, frowning up at the dark sky above them, bundling the blanket he had wrapped around his shoulders a bit tighter. 

Peter released a patient sigh. “I told you,” he said. “Tonight, Venus is in a waning phase. I want to see if I can spot it.” 

Ned raised his eyebrows. “So… we’re waiting around for a star?” he questioned, flatly, and Peter lifted his shoulders. 

“Well, technically, Venus is a planet -”

“I’m going inside,” Ned interrupted, standing up and heading for the door on the roof that led to the stairwell. “Honestly, Peter, it’s cold as hell outside, and you’re going to sit up here and wait for a fucking  _ star?” _

“You can never  _ see _ stars in New York!” Peter exclaimed in response. “I just want to -”

“Inside!” Ned called, and the door to the stairwell closed behind him. Peter stared at it for a moment, sighing a bit, before he set his shoulders and returned his gaze to the sky. After a moment, he tugged the small telescope that he’d gotten when he was seven closer to where he sat on a plastic crate, and peered into the view-finder. He adjusted a couple of knobs on the side of the telescope, searching for perfect clarity. 

As he did so, he heard the door to the roof opening, and then quiet footsteps that he easily recognized walked across the surface towards where he sat. 

“See anything interesting?” 

He glanced up from the view-finder, looking over at Cheri, who wore nothing to protect her from the cold except a flannel shirt that looked as though she’d owned it since she was still in high school. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, but she still had a warm smile on her face. 

“Not yet,” Peter sighed, and he looked up at the sky again. “Maybe I came outside too late and missed it.” 

Cheri followed his gaze, and they both stared upwards at the faded purple of the sky for a moment without speaking. Peter heard Cheri’s teeth chatter, and she inhaled, somehow tightening her arms further. Peter glanced at her.

“What’re you doing without a jacket?” he asked, more amused than anything. 

“I forgot one this morning,” she admitted, “and I didn’t want to drive back to Brooklyn to get one.” 

Peter shook his head, and shrugged out of the jacket he was wearing. “Peter, no,” Cheri said, frowning. “You’ll get cold.”

“I won’t,” he said, standing. “Here.” He draped the jacket around her shoulders, quickly pulling his hands back once he’d done so. Cheri stared at him, before she gave in, and slid her arms through the sleeves. She tugged up the zipper, and then stuffed her hands into the pockets, bouncing a little on her toes as she breathed outwards in relief. 

“Thanks,” she said, softly, shooting him a smile. “I appreciate it.” 

“No problem,” Peter replied, and he leaned forward to peer into the telescope again. He listened as Cheri moved away, tugging another crate over to his own and settling down on top of it. She poked around his backpack for a moment, and let out a quiet snicker. 

Peter looked away from the telescope, and made a face when he saw that she’d pulled out the bag of miniature pretzels that he carried around. 

“Don’t judge me,” he said, seeing the amused expression on her face. “I get hungry during the day.” 

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” she assured. “Can I have some?” 

Peter considered. “You have to be able to toss them in the air, and catch them in your mouth,” he finally said, and Cheri shook her head. 

“What? You’re joking.”

“No, it’s the only way to eat them.” He carefully moved the telescope out of the way, and turned on the crate to face her. He gestured. “Throw one. I’m a pro.”

Cheri considered the pretzel she’d pulled out of the bag for a moment, before she sighed and tossed it towards him. Peter expertly tilted his head back and leaned, catching the pretzel in his mouth. He sat back up, holding out his arms dramatically, chewing. 

Cheri grinned. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “How long did you practice that for?”

“I’m still practicing, everyday,” he responded earnestly, swallowing, and she laughed. He reached for the bag, pulled out a pretzel, and held it up. “Ready?” 

“No,” Cheri replied, honestly. “You can’t laugh when I don’t catch it.”

“Yeah, fine,” Peter said, not meaning it at all. “Come on.”

Cheri rolled her eyes, but all the same prepared herself to catch the pretzel. Peter threw it, carefully, to make sure she had a good chance. Cheri, however, must have had poor depth perception, because she leaned too far, and the pretzel bounced off her nose before landing on the roof. 

She laughed, first, and Peter felt it was acceptable for him to follow her lead. “What were you trying to do, catch it with your nose?” he asked her. 

“Hey, at least I tried!” Cheri said. She pulled another pretzel from the bag, and tried to throw it to herself. This time, it hit her chin and fell. Peter shook his head in mock shame. 

“Pitiful.” His phone began to buzz, inside his pocket, and he pulled it out, surprised to see Tony’s name on the screen. “I should take this,” he said. “Keep practicing.”

He stood and walked away a few feet, answering the phone and bringing it to his ear. “What’s up, Mr. Stark?” 

“Hey, kid!” Tony said. “Listen, I know you were doing your stargazing thing tonight, but I think I made a breakthrough on something here at the Compound. You wanna swing over here, help me out with it?” 

Peter opened his mouth to respond with the affirmative, because really, he didn’t  _ need _ to see Venus, and it  _ was _ cold. Besides, he liked playing around in Tony’s lab at the Compound; there was always something new to do, and Tony sounded very excited about this particular project. 

But then he caught sight of Cheri. She’d taken to throwing multiple pretzels into the air, rather than just one, and was frantically leaning this way and that, trying to catch them in her mouth. She was giggling all the while, no doubt from how ridiculous she felt. Lights from down on the street, and on buildings across from their own gave her a hazy golden outline that gleamed in her dark hair. 

Peter inhaled, somehow managing it around his heart, which was in his throat. “Sorry, Mr. Stark,” he said, “but… I think I’ll have to pass, tonight.”

“What, really?” Tony asked, sounding genuinely surprised. 

“Yeah, I…” Peter trailed off, and tried again. “I really want to see the star.”

Tony was silent for a moment, then he said, “Well… all right. It’s your choice, obviously. Just thought I’d call and ask.” He paused, and then said, carefully, “You feeling okay?”

Peter smiled a little, watching as Cheri successfully caught a single pretzel out of the five she’d thrown into the air, and immediately raised her hands in celebration, turning to see if he’d been watching. He offered her a thumbs up, saying, “Yeah, I’m totally fine. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay,” Tony said, slowly. 

“Bye,” Peter replied, and he lowered the phone, ending the call. He walked back over to where Cheri was, sitting down again, and she held up a hand. 

“I’ve figured it out,” she told him. “It’s about volume.”

“Right,” Peter said with a smile. 

“It is!” Cheri said. “Chance. The more you have in the air, the more likely you are to catch one.”

Peter gestured to the wasted pretzels lying on the rooftop. “But what about the rest of them that can no longer serve their purpose as salty snacks?” he questioned. “Kind of selfish of you.”

“Don’t try to make me have feelings for the  _ pretzels,” _ Cheri said at once. “They’re snacks.”

“Everything has a purpose, Cher,” Peter told her. “And when you rely on chance rather than skill, you kill the pretzels before they can serve theirs.”

Cheri shook her head, rolling the top of the bag up and sticking it back in his bag. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But it’s a good kind of ridiculous, right?” Peter asked, leaning over and nudging her with his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Cheri replied, looking over at him. “I think so.”

Peter glanced between her eyes, before settling his own lower on her face, on her lips. He bet they tasted like salt, and the cherry lip balm she always wore, especially during the winter months. He desperately wanted to lean forward and test his theory. 

Before he could work up the courage to actually do so, Cheri turned away again. Peter’s hopes fell, as did his shoulders, and he turned his gaze towards his telescope, pulling it back towards him. 

“Pete, look!” Cheri said after a moment, and he glanced upwards. Cheri’s finger pointed towards the sky, towards a single shining speck in the growing darkness of it. 

“Yes,” he said, spirits lifting again. He leaned forward, peering into the telescope, adjusting it so that he could see the star more clearly. Within a few seconds, he’d found it, and moved a few knobs just the slightest bit, to focus the telescope. The waning face of Venus came into perfect clarity, and he smiled to himself. 

“Did you find it?” Cheri asked, and he lifted his head, nodding. 

“Take a look,” he invited, standing and moving out of the way. Cheri shifted onto his own crate instead, peering into the telescope herself. Her dark curls fell around her face like a curtain, but Peter hoped that she was smiling somewhere behind it. 

“It’s beautiful!” she said after a moment. 

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, still watching her. 

“It’s just… it’s not full,” Cheri continued. “It’s like when the moon is a crescent, and it’s… it’s purple around the edges.” 

“Yeah, that’s… that’s just the stuff in the atmosphere,” Peter said, blinking. “It’s not - yeah.”

“Why is it moving?” Cheri asked. 

“Turbulence. In the atmosphere.” Cheri leaned up from the telescope, brushing back her hair. Peter lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “It’d be a lot worse if it was hot outside. Heat waves.”

“You know a lot about this stuff,” she said, and he smiled a little. 

“I’ve always liked space,” he admitted. “It started with  _ Star Wars, _ when I was little, but eventually I grew to appreciate space just for itself, and not for the sci-fi things people associate with it.” He glanced upwards. “We know more about space than we do about what’s in the oceans.”

“God, I  _ hate _ that,” Cheri said. Peter’s smile grew, and he looked back at her. She shook her head, shivering. “Bad. Why’d you tell me that?” 

They spent a few more minutes on the roof, Cheri moving so that Peter could look through the telescope again. She captured a few pictures of Venus on her phone, even though the quality wasn’t very good. Eventually, however, Peter noticed that she was getting antsy.

“I should probably start driving home,” she said as he was folding up the legs of the telescope. “My mom will wonder what’s keeping me.”

“Right,” Peter said. He scooped up his backpack, and the telescope, walking over to the door leading to the stairwell. He pulled it open for her. Cheri stepped gratefully through it, sighing outwards as the heater inside the building began to warm her up. 

Peter glanced towards Venus one last time, smiling to himself as he gazed at it. After a moment, he followed Cheri into the building, the door to the roof closing gently behind them. 

It wasn’t until hours later, when he was crouched on top of a street light waiting for two thugs that had just entered a bank to distract themselves with trying to break into the ATM machines, that he realized Cheri hadn’t given him his jacket back. 

He smiled to himself, and decided that he wouldn’t ask for it back, either. 


	25. Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's awkward. Harry kills plants. Cheri meets May.

**February 11th, 2022 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“What’s the musical this spring?” Peter asked, looking up from his laptop. 

Cheri glanced sideways at him for the briefest of seconds, before returning her attention to her own laptop.  _ “Little Shop of Horrors,”  _ she sighed. “One of the drama department heads has connections to the dude who owns one of the copy puppets.” 

“You don’t like  _ Little Shop of Horrors?” _ Peter guessed, and she shrugged. 

“It’s okay. They already asked me if I plan on auditioning for Audrey, and I said no.” 

“What, why?”

“I don’t want to be Audrey,” Cheri replied. “I mean, she spends the majority of the show in an abusive relationship, because she’s too afraid to get out of it. The only reason she does is because the shit head dies.” 

“Oh.” Peter frowned. “And… you’re not a fan of that?” 

“No,” Cheri said. “It doesn’t spread a good message, because she doesn’t go looking for help, and when she’s  _ offered _ help, she turns it down.” She shook her head. “I don’t know, I feel like it makes a story out of a woman who was mistreated all her life, and it doesn’t necessarily give her a strong reprieve from her abusive relationship.” 

“I… okay.” Peter knew very little about  _ Little Shop of Horrors. _ “So you’re not going to audition?”

“I might go out for one of the three girls that sing the opener,” Cheri said, “but I haven’t decided yet. With the extra work I’m doing, in the classroom, I don’t know if I have the time.” 

“Ah,” Peter said. “Well… if you do get a part, we’ll come see it, obviously,” he said. “And if you don’t…” He shrugged. “Maybe you and I can go see it?” 

Cheri finally looked up from the work she was doing, and smiled at him. “You asking me on a date, Queens?” she queried, teasingly, and Peter blinked. 

“No! No, it - it wouldn’t be a  _ date,” _ he said. “Just two friends, going to see the spring musical.” He made a face. “A date. Pfft.” 

Cheri’s smile faded, a little. “You have a very strong opposition to dating, I see.” She looked down at her laptop again. “Or, maybe just dating me, specifically.” 

“What? No, that’s not -” Peter let out a breath of air, annoyed with himself, and her, too, a little, for putting him in this position. “It was a joke.”

“Yes,  _ I _ was joking,” Cheri agreed. “You did not seem to be.”

“But I was,” Peter said. “I’d totally date you.” He paused, and then winced. “But that’s not… something we’d do, the two of us, I don’t think? Just… based on… what I know about our history - y’know what, I’m just going to stop talking.”

“Might be a good idea,” Cheri said without looking up. 

The two of them sat in silence for several long minutes, the only sound in the room Cheri typing on her keyboard. Peter’s sat unused on his lap. He stared at it, but did not attempt to do anymore work. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate on it. 

Why had that happened the way it had? Obviously he’d date Cheri, and obviously he would have  _ liked _ to. Sure, they’d been  _ friends _ only for closing in on two years, and sure, she’d never implied that she would like to date  _ him,  _ but that didn’t make it an impossibility. Did it?

Obviously not, since she’d gotten so offended just now. 

Peter closed his eyes for a moment. God, he wished that he wasn’t so afraid of talking to her about things like this. 

Thankfully, the sound of a key in the front door, and then the subsequent opening of the door, help to shatter some of the tension in the room. Peter glanced over and watched as Harry walked inside, dragging behind him what appeared to be a large planter. 

“Hey,” Harry greeted them both, pausing in the middle of the room to shed his jacket. Peter leaned up a bit, so that he could see into the planter. It was indeed filled with dirt, and appeared to have a plant growing in it, although Peter had no idea what the plant could possibly have been. 

“Whatcha got there?” he asked, attempting to be casual about it, and Harry looked at him, and then at the planter. 

“Oh!” he said, and he grinned. “This is my baby.”

Cheri raised an eyebrow. “Harry, we both took sex ed,” she said. “You know that you’re supposed to use a condom to avoid this.”

“Haha,” Harry said, dryly. “You’re funny. No, the major project for my bio physics course was to attempt to cross breed two different plant species, based on similarities in DNA.” He gestured. “This is the one I’m growing. I was one of the only ones to actually get a bud.” 

“You cross bred plants?” Peter clarified, and Harry nodded. 

“Cool, right?”

“Well, no,” Peter replied, and Harry’s smile fell a bit. “I mean, isn’t it dangerous? What if this thing turns out to be invasive?” 

“I mean, it isn’t as though I’m gonna plant it outside or anything,” Harry said after a moment. “That’s one of the reasons my professor had me bring it home, actually, so that no one would take it.”

Cheri and Peter exchanged a glance. Peter carefully saved his work, and then moved his laptop, sliding over the top of the couch. “Harry,” he began, “what two types of plant did you cross?”

“A venus fly trap, and a snapdragon,” Harry responded, proudly. “I call it the Trap Dragon.”

“Okay, stupid name aside,” Peter said, “you should probably kill it.”

“What? Why?”

_ “Why?”  _ Cheri asked, walking over to join Peter. “Harry, you cross bred two plants that are known to eat bugs.” 

“I know. That’s part of the reason I thought they’d be able to breed.” Harry glanced between the two of them, and then smiled a little. “You think that it’s going to grow into some giant, human eating plant! Guys, look at it.” He gestured. “It’s literally just a tiny bud, right now. Do you know how long it takes plants to grow to their full capacity?” 

“When they’re normal? A reasonable amount of time,” Peter answered. “This one isn’t normal, and I think there’s a reason your professor wanted to get it away from campus. You have to kill it, dude.”

“You guys are big babies,” Harry said with a roll of his eyes. He began to pull the planter out of the front room, in the direction of his bedroom, leaving his coat on the floor. “It’s a  _ plant.” _

Peter listened as Harry grunted, tugging the planter along with him. The grunting went on for about thirty more seconds, and then the door to Harry’s bedroom closed. He let out a breath, and glanced at Cheri, who still had a crease between her brows. 

“Don’t worry,” he said. “He’ll kill it. Probably accidentally.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” she agreed with a sigh. “He’s never been very good at taking care of things.” She looked at him, her shoulders falling. “I’m sorry, about… y’know. Getting bitchy.”

“What? You don’t need to apologize for that,” Peter said at once. “It - we’ve learned that I shouldn’t try to make jokes.”

“No, your jokes are great,” Cheri told him. “I can take things too seriously, sometimes, that’s all.” She offered him a small smile. “So. My fault. Sorry again. Let’s forget it happened.”

“Yeah, okay,” Peter agreed. “Cool.”

“Cool.” They stood in silence for a few long seconds, and then Cheri nodded, mostly to herself, and walked away again towards where she’d left her laptop. Peter lingered, and then chose to do the same, hopping over the back of the couch. 

As he was settling back into his work, his phone buzzed, and he winced, reaching for it. It was the police scanner, sending his phone a report of a possible drug deal in progress. He stared at it for a moment, before cursing a little under his breath and closing his laptop. 

Cheri glanced up from her own as he stood. “Are you -?”

“Yeah, I - I forgot that I set up a study group, tonight,” he said, quickly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said, using her phone to check the time. “I should probably be going, too, anyway, so.”

“I mean, you could probably stay,” Peter said, bouncing on his toes. He really needed to get going. 

“No, that’s all right,” Cheri replied, standing up as well. She slid her laptop into her bag. “I don’t really want to hang out with Harry, and Ned isn’t home, so.” She tilted her head at him. “You okay?” 

Peter froze, and then jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Really gotta use the bathroom,” he said, and Cheri raised her eyebrows, a smile quirking up the corner of her mouth. 

“Got it,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Pete.” Watching her head towards the door, Peter made a split-second decision.

“Cher?” She paused, and looked at him again. He kicked at the floor for a moment. “Do you… uhm. May and I are getting lunch tomorrow. She’s wanted to meet you.” He glanced up at her. “Would you maybe want to get lunch with us?” 

Cheri’s shoulders fell, and she grinned. “Yeah,” she said. “That’d be great. Just text me, okay?”

He nodded in agreement. “Got it.” 

“Okay,” she said, and opened the front door. “Have fun at your study group.”

“Yep, thanks,” he responded, and then waited until she’d closed the door to dart into his bedroom. He stripped off his shirt and jeans, and grabbed his mask out of his bag, tugging it over his head. He double-checked his web shooters, to make sure that there was enough fluid in them, before jogging to the window and sliding it open. He leaned out it, peering up and down the alley. 

Deciding he was clear, he slid out the window, gently closed it, and then shot a web towards the building across the street, and swung up onto the edge of the roof. 

“All right, Karen,” he said, eyes darting across his UI. “Where’s that drug deal happening?” 

As he fired a web, and swung away in the direction that his AI had helpfully supplied him with, Cheri watched him from where she sat behind the wheel of her car. She smiled a little to herself, and put the car in drive again.  _ Study group, _ she thought, amused. 

**February 12th, 2022 - Westway Diner - ** **614 9th Ave, ** **Manhattan, New York. NY, USA**

“So she doesn’t know,” May said, for the fourth time, and Peter patiently looked upwards towards the ceiling of the diner.

“She doesn’t know,” he confirmed, for the fourth time. “So, please, May, don’t give it away on accident.”

“I won’t,” his aunt said. She reached across the table and patted his hand. “You can count on me.” 

“Thank you,” Peter said, and he looked towards the door of the diner. Cheri was pushing her way inside, bundled up in a coat. His shoulders tensed, and he turned his gaze towards May. “Here she comes. Please don’t make it weird.”

“I’m not going to make it weird,” May said, and she stood up as Cheri approached the booth they’d claimed, smiling. “Cheri! It’s great to finally meet you.” 

“Yeah, you too,” Cheri said, smiling back. She blinked in surprise over May’s shoulder at Peter when his aunt tugged her into a hug, and Peter could only offer her a helpless shrug in response. When May let her go, Cheri slid into the booth next to him, leaving May to retake her seat on the other side, smiling at them both. 

“Look at you two,” she said after a moment, and Peter rested his forehead in his hand, mortified. “I mean, it’s great that you’re such close friends!” May quickly amended. “Peter talks about you nonstop.”

“May!” Peter exclaimed, looking up, eyes wide. 

Cheri only laughed. “Does he?” She looked over at him, an eyebrow cocked. “Didn’t know I was such an interesting subject.”

“Yes, he has something new to report about you every time we talk,” May informed her, picking up her glass of iced tea. “He could probably go on for hours about you.”

“Huh,” Cheri said, still looking over at Peter, who desperately wanted the booth bench to open up beneath him and swallow him whole. 

When it didn’t, he cleared his throat, and looked at May. “Maybe we could  _ not _ talk about that?” he asked her. “Please?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” May said, cheerfully, and she looked at Cheri. “I feel like I already know you pretty well, considering, but why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?” 

“Uhm.” Cheri raised her shoulders. “I don’t know what to say, really. You probably already know I’m studying music education.”

“Mm,” May said, and she set her cup down again. “Peter’s told me you’ve been singing and playing piano since you were little.”

Cheri nodded. “Yeah, I learned to play when I was three, and my mom started me with vocal lessons when I was… eight, maybe? After we’d moved to Brooklyn from Washington Heights.”

“Right. Have you always wanted to be a teacher?” May asked, and Cheri nodded. 

“Pretty much. It’s what my mom did, until she had me. I guess it kind of passed over, just with music and not math.”

“Your mom likes math?” 

“I’d hope so, otherwise she got her degree because she hated herself. Math is the worst.” 

May laughed, and Cheri did, too. Next to her, Peter relaxed a little. Thank God. Thank  _ God.  _

“She went to MIT, right?” May asked, and Cheri nodded. May smiled. “Peter considered MIT for a little while,” she said. “Ultimately, though, he decided he’d rather stay in New York.”

_ Yeah, because I was its superhero, _ Peter thought. Aloud, he said, “Yeah, uh, I had a scholarship and everything. Mr. Stark has some connections there, still, being an alumnus. He offered, and so did the university, but… y’know. I made the better choice, I think.”

Cheri grinned at him, and nudged him with her elbow. “I think so, too,” she told him. “By staying in New York, you were able to meet me.”

Peter smiled back. “Right,” he said. “That’s definitely why it was the better choice.”

“Duh, your life is so much better now, with me in it,” Cheri said. 

A waitress came over to take their orders, then, giving Peter time to turn away and hide just how much he agreed with her statement from his expression. When the waitress had walked away again, he was able to continue the conversation without fear of blurting out that he was in love with Cheri to the entire restaurant. 

Lunch continued pretty similarly to this, with May and Cheri both very quickly finding that they shared joy in teasing Peter about anything and everything. Peter supposed that if it meant they were getting along, he could take it. Considering May already knew so much about Cheri, thanks to him, he supposed it was what he deserved. 

At the end of the meal, May refused to let Cheri pay for her lunch, even though Cheri argued, pretty adamantly, that she really didn’t need to. May wouldn’t hear it, and she also left a pretty hefty tip on the edge of the table as the three of them piled out from the booth. They headed out of the diner together, and May grabbed Cheri in another hug, before pulling Peter into one as well. 

“We’ll need to do this again,” she announced. “Maybe next time, Peter will leave some things for you to share about yourself.”

Peter rolled his eyes, and Cheri chortled. “We’ll have to see,” she said. “It was awesome to meet you.”

May smiled at her. “You too,” she said, and she held Cheri’s hand for a moment before she walked away from them up the street. They watched until she disappeared into the crowd of people, and then Cheri looked up at Peter, grinning. 

“That was great!” she said. “Thanks for inviting me, Pete.”

He shrugged. “I figured you’d meet her eventually,” he said. “I mean, she sort of adopted Harry, when I met him. It’s in her nature.”

“I can tell,” Cheri said. “She’s really sweet.” 

“She liked you,” Peter told her. “It - I mean, sometimes I’ll talk someone up, and if they ever meet her, it’s sometimes a let down, because they aren’t actually that great, but not this time.”

Cheri shook out her hair a little. “Well, I am pretty fabulous,” she said, and Peter huffed a bit. Cheri grinned, and poked him in the shoulder. “You’re next, pal.”

“I’m next what?” he asked.

“Meeting my mom, duh,” she said, and then she headed towards her car. “You want a ride?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” he said, following her. Meeting her mother. Like. Legit, sitting-down-to-food type meeting her mother. 

Peter wasn’t positive he was ready for that. 


	26. The Contest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fantastic Four (not trademarked) enter into a bit of a bet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you were wondering HOW sitcom I was willing to go, this plot is straight out of a 'Seinfeld' episode. I am not ashamed.

**February 23rd, 2022 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“I’m never masturbating again.” 

Peter looked up from his textbook, startled, as the front door slammed shut. Harry stood in front of it, hands on his waist. Peter carefully closed his textbook, set it off to the side, cleared his throat, and said, “What?” 

“You heard me!” Harry replied, hotly. “Never masturbating again. Do you know why?”

“No,” Peter said. “I don’t think I want to know.”

Harry held up a finger. “One time,” he said. “One _ time, _ I decide to use one of the bathrooms on campus. I walk in there, and _ guess _what I heard going on in the stall next to the one I chose?” Peter groaned, and Harry nodded, rapidly. “Yep, yep! It was the grossest fucking thing, and I can’t believe I’ve ever partaken in it myself, and I refuse to do it ever again!” 

“Refuse to ever do what again?” Ned asked, walking into the front room with an empty bowl. 

“Masturbate,” Harry responded, pacing in front of the door.

Ned snorted. “Yeah, right,” he said, continuing on into the kitchen. 

Harry frowned in that direction. “I can do it!” he insisted. 

“Yeah, sure, and I can do a backflip,” Ned said from the kitchen. The sink ran for a moment, and then he reappeared, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t last a day, dude.” 

“I super would!” Harry said. “Peter?” 

“No,” Peter said, shaking his head. 

Harry scoffed, and crossed his arms. “Fine, right, like you guys are any better.” 

There was a knock on the apartment door, and Harry turned around to pull it open. Cheri stood on the other side, clearly annoyed. 

“Why the hell did you take off like that?” she asked him, walking into the apartment and swinging the door closed behind her. 

“I had to get away from the perversion I witnessed in the bathroom,” Harry said. He shuddered. “God.” 

“What perversion?” Cheri asked. 

“Someone was masturbating in the stall next to mine, and I could hear everything,” Harry explained. “That sort of thing changes you. And now these two don’t think that I’ll never masturbate again, but I know for a fact that I could at least last longer than them.”

Cheri’s eyebrows had hiked about three inches up on her forehead. “Well,” she said, crossing her arms. “Why don’t you guys put a bet on it?” 

Harry frowned, and looked at Ned and Peter. Ned was making a face. “You want us to bet on who can go the longest without… doing that?” he asked, and Cheri shrugged. 

“Why not? Could be fun.”

“It’s gross, though,” Ned said. 

“But there’s money involved if you win,” Harry pointed out. 

Ned looked at him, horrified. “You can’t be seriously considering it!” 

“Sure I am,” Harry said with a shrug. “I know I’ll win.” He looked at Peter. “You in?” 

Peter had turned a pinkish color. “Uhm.” He reached up, and rubbed the back of his neck, doing his best not to look at Cheri. “Yeah, sure, I’m in. How much?”

“Fifty bucks,” Harry said. He pulled a fifty from his wallet, and held it up. “What’d’ya say?” 

“I can match that,” Peter replied. He turned to Ned. “You sure you don’t want in on this?” 

Ned sighed a little, looking between the two of them, before he sighed and said, “Yeah, all right, fine.” 

“I want in, too,” Cheri said. All three men looked at her, stunned, and she nodded. “I wanna play.”

“It’s not _ playing,” _ Harry told her. “This is a serious matter. And, besides, it’s not as big a deal for a woman as it is for a man. It’s part of our lifestyle, like shaving.”

“I shave,” Cheri told him. 

“Not every day!” 

“Come on, let me have some fun,” Cheri said. “I’ll do double or nothing, a hundred bucks, since you seem to think it’ll be easier for me.”

Harry glanced at Ned, who shrugged, and then at Peter, who was now avoiding looking at any of them. After a moment, Harry smiled, and turned back to Cheri. “All right, fine,” he said. “Hundred bucks. We all in?” 

“We’re in,” Ned said, gazing despondently down at the floor. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Okay,” Cheri said, smirking. “So, how’re we gonna keep track of this?” 

“Well, I think it’s safe to say we all know one another fairly well,” Harry said. “I think we can trust us all to work with the honor system, right?” 

“Honor system works for me,” Ned mumbled. He held out his fist. Harry pressed his against it, and looked at Cheri. 

_ “Mon _ Cheri?” 

“Yep, honor system,” Cheri agreed, pressing her fist to theirs. “Queens?” 

Peter slid over the back of the couch and walked over to where they all stood. He folded his hand, and placed his fist in the group. “Honor system,” he repeated.

* * *

Ned stormed into the apartment, walked around the front of the couch, and slammed a pile of bills down on the coffee table. “I’m out!” he announced. 

Peter gazed up at him. “You’re out,” he repeated. 

“I’m out,” Ned said, spreading his hands. “I can’t do it. It’s impossible.”

“How’re you already out?” Peter asked. “It’s been twelve hours!”

“You know that girl in my class that I’ve been telling you about?” Ned queried, and Peter nodded. Ned shook his head. “Can’t do it, not with her around. It’s impossible. You know what she did today?” 

“I don’t… I don’t think I _ want _ to know,” Peter replied. 

Ned sat down on the couch. “She was wearing a mini-skirt. A _ mini-skirt, _ in February, and she fuckin’ crossed her legs and just… showed _ everything.” _ He rested his head in his hands. “I gotta get laid, I swear.” 

“I hate this conversation, and I’m ending it right now,” Peter decided. He leaned forward, retrieved his winnings from Ned’s bet, and slid it into his pocket. “Where’s Harry?” 

“I don’t know, he was talking to some guy,” Ned sighed. “How’re you doing?” 

“Uhm. Not bad, considering,” Peter said. “I think I have an advantage, since I’m sort of ingrained into being attracted to Cheri, so I think as long as I don’t, like, look directly at her, I might be able to win this thing.”

The door to the apartment opened, and Cheri walked in, swinging it shut again. She spotted the money on the table, and grinned. “Who caved?” she asked. Ned put up his hand, shaking his head. “Yikes, what happened?”

“Leah Stevens,” Ned mumbled. Cheri clicked her tongue, and Ned gestured. “I know, right? Fuckin’ mini-skirts.”

Cheri looked at Peter. “What about you?”

“Master of the castle,” Peter replied without glancing up at her. 

“Hm.” She crossed her arms. “Well, I saw Harry with that dude, and I’m thinking this bet might come to an end a lot quicker than we thought it would.”

“Yeah, he was pretty hot, wasn’t he?” Ned asked. Cheri nodded in agreement. Ned rolled his eyes. “Never gonna masterbate again. Yeah, right.” 

“Who knows?” Peter said. “If he really sets his mind to something, he can do it.”

“Yeah, but it’s obvious he’s not even trying,” Cheri said. “I mean, blatant flirting? Guy’s not coming out of that without _ some _ kinda need.” 

“Assuming the other guy’s into it,” Peter said. Both Cheri and Ned scoffed. “What? It’s possible.”

“With _ Harry Osborn?” _ Ned retorted. Peter was silent for a moment, and then he relented, looking down again. Ned turned back to Cheri. “How’re you doing?” 

“Not bad,” Cheri replied, stretching her arms up over her head. Peter let out a silent breath. Cheri relaxed again, and smirked, shrugging her shoulders. “I’m here to make some money, boys.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Ned grumbled. “We knew it’d be easy for you.” 

“What do you mean? Pete’s apparently doing just fine,” Cheri said. Ned glanced at Peter, who was steadfastly staring at the floor. 

“Right,” Ned agreed. “He might give you a run for your money.” 

Harry arrived, then, whistling cheerfully. He shut the door, and turned to them, smiling. “How’s everyone doing this fine afternoon?” he queried, walking around the coffee table. He caught sight of the money, and laughed. “Ned?” 

“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” Ned muttered. “I’ve got some studying to do.” He stood, and looked around at all three of them. “At least _ I’m _ going to get a good night’s sleep.” 

With that, he exited the front room. The others glanced at one another. 

“I didn’t have trouble sleeping,” Cheri said. 

“Me either,” Peter said. 

Harry raised his shoulders. “No idea what he’s talking about.”

* * *

Harry sighed to himself. “How much blood do you need?” he asked the technician. 

“Just a little,” she replied. “We’re only testing your levels.” 

Harry squirmed a bit in the chair he was sitting in. “Fine,” he said. “I have a class at noon, though, so -”

“You’ll be fine,” the technician assured. “I’ll be right back.”

She walked out of the room. Harry leaned his head back over the chair, and studied the ceiling. After a moment, he heard a voice from out in the hall, and strained his ears to listen. 

“I’m _ positive _ there’s a lump,” a female voice said. 

“We’ll check and see,” another responded. “Go ahead and get undressed.” 

Harry made a face to himself, and let out a steadying breath. The technician returned, holding a blood pressure cuff. “I’m gonna check your blood pressure, just to make sure we can take your blood today,” she told him. 

“Yeah, sure,” he replied, most of his attention still focused on the conversation happening in the room across the hall. 

“Mm,” the second female hummed. “It feels as though your breasts are dense. Have you ever gotten a mammogram?” 

“No,” the first replied. “Can’t you feel it? It’s right… here - ooh!” 

Harry jumped, slightly, at the sound of velcro tearing. The technician looked at him. “Are you all right?” she asked. 

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Harry said, hurriedly. “Sorry.” 

She frowned, but fastened the cuff around his arm. Harry tried to block out the sounds of the breast exam happening across the hall, but for some reason, they were deafening. 

“Ooh, sorry, darling,” the technician said, “but your blood pressure is through the roof. Have you been stressed, lately?” 

“You could say that,” Harry managed.

* * *

Cheri opened the door to the Trio’s apartment. “Anyone home?” she called when she didn’t spot anyone in the front room. 

“Hey!” she heard Peter return from somewhere down the hall. “Be right out!” 

Cheri dropped her bag onto the floor and settled down on the couch. She tugged out her phone and started to skim through Twitter. After a moment, she heard a door open, and turned to look over the back of the couch towards the hall. Peter walked out into the open, and smiled at her. 

“Didn’t know you were coming over,” he said. 

It took Cheri a minute to respond. Peter’s hair was damp, and the shirt he was wearing was a lot different from the usual lose t-shirts he typically wore, in that it was snug, both around his arms and his chest. It kind of left nothing to the imagination, considering Cheri had seen him shirtless, before, and knew exactly what was underneath. 

“Uhm, why wouldn’t I have?” she finally said, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “I always come over after class.”

“Yeah, true,” Peter said, and he gestured. “I was actually getting ready to head out, and no one else is home.” 

“Oh.” Cheri let out a breath. “All right. I guess I’ll go, then.”

“I mean, you obviously don’t have to,” Peter said, quickly, as she started to stand. “You can hang out. It just might be boring without anyone here.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Cheri replied. “I’ll just head home.”

She started for the door, almost colliding with Peter as he went to open it for her. She quickly backed away, lifting her gaze to meet his, and managed a weak smile. 

“Sorry,” he said, mirroring her. “Here.” He pulled the door open, and gestured. “Just trying to be suave.”

“Yeah, right,” Cheri said. She slid her bag over her shoulder. “You should maybe work on that.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Cheri scooted out of the apartment. “I’ll see you later,” she said. 

“Yeah, okay,” Peter agreed. “See you.”

He closed the door behind her, and then Cheri leaned back against it, turning her gaze upwards. “Holy _ shit,” _ she said, softly, under her breath.

* * *

Peter rested his head back against the front door of the apartment, his eyes closed. _ If I didn’t have to go Spider-Man, I would definitely lose the bet, _ he thought to himself. How was it that all Cheri had to do was _ look _ at him, and he was suddenly very uncomfortable? 

Stupid male hormones. It had barely been a week! 

He shook it off as best as he could, and hurried to his bedroom to get his suit on. He had work to do. Hopefully he’d be able to focus, or else he’d end up with a broken rib, or worse.

* * *

“A breast exam!” Harry exclaimed. Ned leaned forward, chortling. “It isn’t funny! I was there to get my blood drawn for a very important reason, and I couldn’t because these women across the hallway were turning a breast exam into a goddamn audio-based pornography!” 

“It’s _ so _ funny, are you kidding?” Ned retorted. He wiped at his eyes. “Holy shit.”

“It _ isn’t,” _ Harry insisted, dryly. His phone rang within his pocket, and he tugged it out, making a face at the name on the screen. He answered the call, and lifted the phone to his ear. “Why the hell are you calling me?” 

“I’m out,” Cheri replied from the other end, sounding a little drained. 

“You’re _ out?” _ Harry repeated, astonished. “What the hell?” 

“Yeah, it -” Cheri sighed. “There was this guy, he was wearing a really tight shirt, and I guess it… it hit different, I don’t know. I’m out.”

Harry looked at Ned, who was watching him, eyebrows raised. Harry lifted his shoulders in response. “All right,” he said to Cheri. “Are you home?” 

“Yeah,” Cheri replied. “I stopped by earlier, but Peter was heading out, and you and Ned weren’t there, so I left. I’ll come over tomorrow to drop off the hundred bucks.” She groaned to herself. “I can’t believe I lost.”

“Me either,” Harry agreed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well. Guess we’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Cheri mumbled. “You still doing okay?” 

“Oh, one hundred percent,” Harry replied, quickly. “I am in complete control.”

The front door open, and Peter walked through it, his face twisted into a grimace. It relaxed, however, when he realized that both Ned and Harry were in the front room, and he smiled instead. 

“Hey, guys,” he greeted. 

“Hey, Cheri’s out,” Harry told him, and then said farewell to her before lowering his phone. 

Peter furrowed his brow. “She’s out?” he asked, and Ned lifted his shoulders. “I saw her earlier, she seemed fine.”

“Dunno,” Ned said. “Guess it’s just you and Harry left, though.”

Peter looked at Harry, and Harry looked back. Ned whistled _ The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly _ theme under his breath, reaching for his laptop.

* * *

“Y’know, once, when Cheri and I were going out,” Harry began, “she uh… she’d forgotten to bring clothes with her into the bathroom to put on after her shower, so she…” He chuckled. “She had to walk back to her bedroom in just her towel, hair dripping, completely annoyed. It was the funniest thing.” 

Peter closed his eyes for a moment, centering himself. Two could play this game. 

“Mm, that is funny,” he agreed. “Hey, did you have Feldman today?” 

“I did,” Harry replied. 

“Did you notice that her skirt, in the back, was tucked into her panty hose?” 

Harry stiffened. “No,” he said, carefully. “I didn’t notice.”

“Oh, yeah,” Peter said. “I guess she must’ve fixed it between my class and yours, but _ man.” _

“She’s pretty cute, huh?” Harry asked, and Peter nodded. 

“I think so,” he said. “Pretty young for a college professor.”

“Mhm,” Harry agreed, shifting. “Uhm. Did I ever tell you about the time Cheri and I went swimming, and her bathing suit lifted up after she cannonballed?” 

Peter leaned his head back against the couch. “Nope,” he said, evenly. “I don’t think you have.” 

“Mm, well.” Harry crossed his right leg over his left. “That was quite a show.”

“Hey, uh, I think Ned got the new _ People _ for this week,” Peter said. “Pretty sure one of the Jonas brothers was on the cover; it looked like a bathing suit shot, but I can’t be sure.”

Harry clenched and unclenched his fist. “Y’know Cheri’s measurements?”

“No.”

“Oh. Well, _ I _ do, ‘cause I had a dress made for her back in high school, when we went to one of Oscorp’s galas.” He whistled. “Ooh, boy.” 

Peter let out a quiet hiss. “Y’know, this is kind of fucked of you,” he muttered, “telling me stuff like this. It’s _ Cheri.” _

“Well, you’re the one who’s finding it sexual,” Harry said with a shrug. “I’m just telling stories.” There was a moment of silence, and then he said, “38, 28, 36.” 

“Fuck me,” Peter huffed, and he pushed himself to his feet, stalking out of the front room. Harry smirked to himself, and leaned back against the couch after retrieving the new _ People _ from beneath some mail on the coffee table. He admired the picture of Joe Jonas on the cover of it for a moment. 

“You and I have a date for later,” he said, cheerfully. 


	27. Harry Osborn Hates His Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're just... so dumb, sometimes.

**March 15th, 2022 - Empire State University - Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“Balloons!” Megan said, cheerfully, shoving a group of seven into Cheri’s hand before flinging her arm around her neck and pressing a kiss to her temple. Cheri laughed, and pushed her friend away. 

“Thanks, Meg,” she said, looking up at the balloons. They were a conglomeration of pink, purple, and blue, paired with a Happy Birthday shaped like a cake. She smiled a little, and glanced at Megan. “The bisexual flag colors?”

Megan lifted her shoulders. “Couldn’t resist. They look nice, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah, they do,” Cheri agreed. “I don’t think I’m allowed to carry these inside any of the buildings, though, so they’ll have to stay in my car.” She began the process of pushing the balloons into the back seat, which was no easy task. Megan moved in to help her, shoving the balloons with exaggerated grunting noises that made Cheri laugh again. 

“What the hell is going on over here?” Cheri glanced over her shoulder and grinned at Harry, who had wandered over to where her car was parked. He cocked an eyebrow. “Balloons, huh? What’s up with that?” 

“Screw you, Hairball,” Cheri said, pushing the last of the balloons into the back seat, and turning to face him fully. 

Harry smiled a bit. “Oh, right,” he said. “It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” She crossed her arms, and his grin grew. “Happy birthday, you tit. Here.” He pulled a card out of his pocket and passed it to her. 

“Thanks, shrew,” Cheri replied, and slid the card into her bag. Megan closed the back door of the car, and hugged her again. 

“I gotta get to class,” she said. “Text me later? We could go get you another tattoo.” 

“Mm, no, one and done for me, I think,” Cheri said, “but thanks for the offer.”

Megan raised her shoulders. “Whatever you say. I’ll see you.”

“Bye, M,” Cheri said, and her other friend sauntered off, humming as she went. Cheri turned to Harry again. “You’re on campus early.”

“Yeah, I wanted to catch you before your first class,” Harry explained, gesturing. “Peter and Ned were supposed to come with me, but they were both still asleep, so so much for that shit, I guess.”

Cheri chuckled. “It’s fine,” she said. “Walk with me?” 

“Sure,” Harry agreed, and they headed towards the center of campus. “Did your mom pick up a box of cake mix?” 

“Yep, it’s strawberry, this year,” Cheri said. “I think the last time we did strawberry, I was twelve, and the bottom turned black.” 

“Funny how baking ability can skip a generation,” Harry commented. “Where do you think you’ll go when she inevitably ruins this one?”

“Dunno yet,” Cheri said. “I was going to spend my class looking up bakeries, actually.” 

“Ah, yes, the more important task to be completed today, definitely,” Harry said, rolling his eyes a little. “Do you ever actually learn anything in any of your classes?” 

“Not this one,” Cheri replied. “It’s, like… hell, I don’t even know. Aural comprehension, like, sight reading for singing.” 

“Which you can already do no problem,” Harry said, and she nodded with a shrug. He smiled a bit. “Well, ditch it, then.” She glanced at him in surprise. “Why not? It’s just one class, and it’s your birthday.”

“I have other classes today.”

“It’s still your birthday.” Harry took her hand, swung it between the two of them. “Live a little.” 

Cheri glanced towards the Walker School building, before she exhaled a breath, and looked at Harry again. “What would we do?” she asked him.

He smiled. “I have a couple ideas.”

* * *

Cheri put her car in park, and then killed the engine. Her eyes were fixed on the building that she’d parked in front of, however, wide with wonder. Harry grinned, and gestured towards it with his head. 

“Ever been inside?” 

“Are you joking?” Cheri asked, glancing at him. “With what fucking money would I have ever gone to see a show?” 

“Fair.” He pushed his way out of the car. “We’re not here to see a show, so… you’ll need to still do that, later. Maybe when John Mulaney comes back?” 

“You think they’ll let him perform here twice?” Cheri asked, skeptically. “He’s old.” 

“He’s not even  _ forty _ yet,” Harry said. “Come on.” He closed the door, and Cheri exhaled, before exiting on her side and following him towards Radio City Music Hall. “Wait, are we going to get arrested?” she asked, sliding her arm through his. 

“No, we’re not trespassing,” Harry told her, and he opened the door for them. 

There was no staff around, that Cheri noticed, as Harry led her into the theater. She’d seen it online, of course, but it was  _ fucking huge. _

“Jesus,” she said quietly, looking around the house with wide eyes. “Look at how high the fucking ceiling goes!” 

“It’d take a lot of yous stacked on top of one another to reach it, that’s for sure,” Harry agreed, grinning. He nodded towards the stage. “Why don’t you go up there?” 

“You’re kidding,” Cheri said. “I can’t go up there.” 

“Why not?” 

“It’s like… jinxing it,” she replied. “I - no.” 

“Jinxing what?” Harry asked her. “You’re going to be a teacher, not, fucking… what, Carole King.” Cheri glanced at the stage. Harry slipped his arm out from around hers, and gave her a gentle push. “Go.”

She started up the aisle, and then walked around to the edge of the stage. It was pretty elevated, so she used the ramp on one side to get up onto it. The curtain was down, and she brushed her fingers against it, smiling a little to herself. She followed it to the center of the apron, and then she turned to face the house seats. Harry had settled down in one in the dead center of the front row. 

“Sing something!” he said, cupping his hands around his mouth. 

“Absolutely not,” Cheri retorted, her eyes following the curvature of the ceiling. 

“Fuck, then what is the point of us being here?” Harry demanded. She looked at him, and he spread his arms. “It’s only me, for God’s sake.”

She considered him for a moment, before sighing a little. “No recording,” she said, and he put up his hands. 

“My phone’s in the car.”

“All right.” She tugged off the sweater she was wearing, and tossed it to the side, shaking out her hair a bit. “Any requests?” 

Harry hummed a little. “Whatever comes to you first,” he said at last. He sincerely hoped that she didn’t see his phone where it was propped up on his knee, positioned so that the camera could see her on the stage. She didn’t seem to, because she set her shoulders, and looked out over the house in general, smiling a bit. 

“This is a lot of pressure,” she said after a moment. 

“Again, just me,” Harry reminded her. “Just go for it.”

Cheri sighed. “I wish I had a piano,” she grumbled, and then cocked her head, eyes closing as she went through the catalog of songs in her head that might have been even the tiniest bit worthy of Radio City Music Hall. She came up empty, until she didn’t. 

“Mm, I guess,” she said after considering the song her mind had selected. “Frankie Valli's wig? 'Bout to be snatched.” 

“Frankie Valli?” Harry prompted, and she looked at him again, nodding. 

“Yeah.”

“You sure?” 

Cheri frowned a little. “You said I could sing whatever I wanted.”

Harry sighed. “You’re right, you’re right. Sorry.” He gestured with one hand. “Sing on.”

Cheri did, and Harry’s phone recorded the entire performance, even though he was mesmerized by his friend, who fucking  _ owned _ the stage, even singing without accompaniment of any kind. No wonder one of her professors had suggested she switch to vocal performance as her major instead. 

But Harry knew her, knew that her passion lay in teaching, and no one could convince her of anything different, no matter how good she was. It was what she’d always wanted to do, and really, she was going to be good at it. 

He stood and clapped for her when she was done, and she sank into a small bow, smiling. That was when Harry heard a door open from somewhere else in the building, and he knew they needed to go. 

“That was awesome,” he told her, standing. “You good?”

She straightened up, and nodded. “I’m good.”

He held out his hand. “C’mon, then,” he said. “We’ll go get breakfast.”

Cheri slid down off the front of the stage, and joined him. Harry put his phone into his pocket, and then placed an arm around her shoulders. 

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re great at singing?” he queried. She elbowed him sharply in the side. Harry laughed, breathlessly, and lead the two of them out of the theater.

* * *

At breakfast, Cheri spent most of the time being distracted by something on her phone, that had her smiling and laughing out loud. Harry, wanting to be respectful, did not ask what it was, even though Cheri would normally show him, if it was a meme or something, implying that it was not, in fact, a meme. 

Harry had a fairly good idea of what it was, however, and he succeeded in confirming his theory when Cheri went to use the bathroom, and he peeked at her phone, spotting that it was open to her text conversation with Peter. The entire string of messaged was a mix of memes and videos and bad puns. Harry couldn’t get over how fucking  _ obvious _ the two of them were, apparently to everyone but themselves. 

When Cheri returned from the bathroom, she found him looking through her phone, and she squawked in indication, reaching for it. Harry held it out of her reach, giving her a look until she gave up, sinking back down into her seat on the opposite side of the booth. They were both silent for a very long moment. 

Finally, however, Harry said, “So.”

“Jesus,” Cheri groaned, placing her face in her hands. “Harry, I really don’t need to hear it from you.”

“I just don’t know when you became such a wiener about not telling people you’re into that you’re into them,” Harry stated, shrugging his shoulders. “I mean, honestly, you and Peter have been flirting since, like, January.” 

“It’s not flirting,” Cheri said, and when Harry cocked an eyebrow, she amended, “Okay, maybe it’s flirting on  _ my _ part, but that’s just Peter being… Peter.” 

“He is not this much of a dork all the time,” Harry told her. “I’ve known him for three years; this is  _ peak _ Peter Parker dorkiness, and he only gets like this around girls that he really likes, which, granted, has been maybe three over the course of the time I’ve known him. But you, my dear, and most definitely a special case. I mean, look at some of this stuff!” 

When he held the phone out to her, she snatched it from him and tucked it into her bag, avoiding his eyes. Harry tilted his head, brow furrowed, watching as she poked at what remained of the stack of pancakes she’d ordered. 

“Cheri, I want you to be happy,” he told her after a moment. “And… you clearly like Peter a lot. When’s the last time you felt this way about somebody?” 

“I don’t know,” she admitted, quietly. 

“So?” 

Cheri shook her head. “I don’t want to mess up our friendship,” she said. “If I tell him I’m interested in something more, and it goes bad, I could lose this.” She gestured in the direction of her bag, of her phone. “And I really don’t want to, because I like him.” 

“We didn’t mess up our friendship,” Harry said. 

“I think we’re an exception to the rule,” Cheri replied, and Harry had to agree, they were. Still, though. 

“I really think you should give it a shot,” he told her. 

“Yeah, well… I don’t, so, let’s just drop it, okay?” she asked, and then pushed her plate away. “You ready to go?” 

Harry exhaled. “Yeah,” he said, and dropped some money on the table for the bill before following her out of the diner.

* * *

“You snuck into  _ Radio City Music Hall?”  _ Peter demanded, watching the video Harry had taken of Cheri later on that night. “You could have been arrested!” 

“We weren’t trespassing or anything,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “It’s a public space.”

“When a  _ show’s going on,” _ Peter responded, hotly. “Jesus, Harry.”

“I wanted to give her an experience,” Harry told him. “She’d never been before, and now she’s  _ sung _ on that stage!” He crossed his arms. “Aren’t you, like, happy for her?”

“Sure,” Peter said, “but I wish she’d done so in a legal manner.” Still, Harry could see that he was drawn into the video once Cheri started to sing. When she was done, he glanced at Harry again, sighing. “She’s something else.”

Harry nodded, taking his phone back. Peter turned his gaze towards the blank TV screen in their front room. Harry noticed his shift in demeanor, and glanced over at him, an eyebrow raised. “What?” 

“Just…” Peter let out a sigh. “I don’t know. Nothing.”

“Peter.”

His friend leaned over, resting his head in his hand. “Just… you know her really well, right? And like, so do I, I guess, but not nearly as well as you do, and you’d… there are things you’d do for her, like  _ sneaking into _ Radio City Musical Hall, of all places, so that she could sing on that stage.” 

“Peter -”

He shook his head. “I’m being stupid, I know,” he said, “and I… I’ve been trying to convince myself for months that we’re… we’re just friends, and that I’m good with that, but it… it just gets harder.” He let out a quiet sigh. “I think I’m in love with her, Harry.” 

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “So then what the fuck are you doing here, sitting next to me on the couch, instead of, like, going to her apartment and… serenading her from down on the street?” he asked. 

Peter snorted. “I’d never serenade anyone,” he said, “more for their sake than mine.” He lifted his head again, and glanced at Harry. “And it - I’m not brave enough.”

“You’re kidding,” Harry said, flatly, and Peter shook his head tiredly. “Jesus, Peter.”

“I’m just  _ terrified _ that I’ll go and tell her how I feel, and that she won’t feel the same, and then I’ll have fucked up  _ everything,” _ Peter explained. “I don’t want to lose her friendship, you know? So, like, it’s easier, and smarter, to just… hang on to it, rather than try to make it more than what it is.”

Harry rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “You are a sad,  _ sad _ man,” he said, “and you absolutely do  _ not _ have my pity, because  _ fuck, _ how do you expect to ever get anything you want without taking a risk?” 

“I guess I never will,” Peter murmured in response. 

Harry glanced at him, and when Peter did not say anything else, he shook his head and pushed himself to his feet. “Fine,” he said. “Then sit here and feel sorry for yourself, because I cannot help you.”

He turned and walked away, leaving Peter where he was on the couch. Once he was in his room, he pulled out his cell phone and sent a text to Cheri. 

> _ Me: Jesus Christ, would you please sit down with this boy and have a conversation with him? _
> 
> _ Cheri: What boy? _
> 
> _ Me: Cheri, c’mon.  _
> 
> _ Cheri: No. It’s not a good idea. I don’t want to fuck up our friendship.  _

Harry leaned his head back against the door of his bedroom with a long groan. He hated both of them _so_ fucking much.


	28. The Redhead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harry Osborn is too proud to ask a simple question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is also part of the plot of a "Seinfeld" episode whoops.

**March 25th, 2022 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“Hey, are you coming to see the movie with us on Friday?” Peter asked, looking over the back of the couch. 

Harry waved his hand in response. “Nah,” he said. “I have a date.”

“You have a date?” Cheri questioned, clearly amused. “Since when?” 

“I was at Space Market earlier, picking up a few things, and I ran into this guy,” Harry replied with a shrug. “I’ve seen him on campus, thought he was cute, so I asked him out. We’re getting dinner.”

“You asked out a guy while you were at Space Market?” Peter looked at Cheri, and then back at Harry, grinning. “Feeling a little desperate, huh?”

“You shut up,” Harry said, hotly. “Besides, he’s cute! He’s a redhead.”

“Ah, so he’s a spawn of Satan,” Cheri concluded. “That explains your attraction to him.”

“Stop,” Peter said, tossing a piece of popcorn at her. He turned back to Harry. “So, what’s his name?” 

“I don’t know,” Harry said. 

Peter frowned. “How do you not know?”

“I didn’t get a chance to ask,” Harry answered. “I mean, we were standing in line, I said, “Hey, you go to ESU, right?” and he said, “Yeah,” and I said, “You busy on Friday night?” and then we set the date and I didn’t get his name, but it’s fine.”

“How is it fine?” Cheri asked him. 

“‘Cause, I’ll figure it out,” Harry said, shrugging. “How hard could it be? He’s coming here, so, y’know, Ned or Peter can introduce themselves, and he’ll have to tell them his name.”

“Does he know _ your _ name?” Peter asked.

“I think so,” Harry answered. “He didn’t ask for it, so I have to assume, right? He probably thought I knew what his was, since I knew he goes to ESU.” He hesitated, and then said, “And I kind of got a little distracted halfway through the asking.”

“You got _ distracted?” _ Cheri repeated, flatly. “What does that mean?” 

Harry reached up and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t remember. Mrs. Jones asked me a question while I was still in the process of asking the guy out and I got confused, all right?” 

Cheri and Peter exchanged an amused look, before Peter turned back to Harry. “Well, you’ll have to ask Ned to help,” he said, “since Cheri and I are going to the movies.” 

“That’s fine,” Harry said with a shrug. “And even if it doesn’t work out with Ned’s help, eventually you’ll have to introduce yourself to him, and maybe I’ll find out then.”

“You think you’re going to get a second date with a guy you don’t know the name of?” Cheri asked. “Seriously?” 

“Sure. why not?” Harry shrugged his shoulders. “I’m charming as hell.” 

He ducked into the kitchen, and Cheri turned back to Peter, shaking her head. “Ten bucks says he never gives in to just asking for it,” she said. 

“You’re on,” Peter agreed, shaking her hand.

* * *

“This is so dumb, Harry,” Ned sighed from where he sat on the couch. “Why don’t you just ask him for his name? Just say that you forgot.”

“What, and make him think I’m an idiot with a bad memory?” Harry demanded. “Yeah, _ that’s _ a good first impression, definitely.” 

“At least you’re being _ honest!” _

Harry sighed, shaking his head. “Stop it, stop,” he said, putting up his hands. “Just do this one thing for me, okay? When he comes in, just introduce yourself, and he’ll have to tell you his name, right?” 

“Sure, or he’ll expect you to introduce him,” Ned mumbled, picking at his fingernail. 

“Positive thoughts, Ned, positive thoughts,” Harry insisted. He adjusted his tie, and then gestured to it. “Do I look okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, you look great. You always do,” Ned sighed. 

“Cool.” Harry leaned up on his toes, and settled back down again. “Wow, I haven’t been excited like this for a date in a long time.” His smile faded, slightly, and he glanced at Ned. “What’re you doing tonight?”

“Oh.” Ned sat up straight. “I spent $2.99 to rent _ 13 Going on 30 _ on YouTube, so I’m gonna watch that, and then cry myself to sleep.” 

Harry frowned. “You don’t have someone you can invite over?” he asked, and Ned shrugged a little. 

“Nah, I’m all right.”

Harry wanted to argue, but was unable to, because there was a knock on the door of the apartment. He snapped his fingers. “That’s him,” he said, and trotted to the door. He pulled it open, and smiled again. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Good, good,” the redhead said, stepping into the apartment. Ned had stood up, and Harry gestured towards him. 

“This is my roommate,” he said. 

“Hi,” Ned said, waving. “I’m Ned.”

“Nice to meet you, Ned,” the redhead replied. He looked at Harry. “You look nice.” 

“Oh, thanks. So do you,” Harry said, doing his best to pretend that he wasn’t completely shocked by the fact that the plan hadn’t worked. “Got the reservation for seven, so we should probably get going.”

“Good idea,” the redhead said, glancing at his watch. He looked at Ned again, smiling. “Good to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” Ned replied, smirking to himself. Harry ushered the redhead out the door ahead of him, and cast a frantic look back at Ned as he went. Ned could only shrug in reply. Harry made a face, and the apartment door closed. 

Ned snickered to himself, and settled back down on the couch, reaching for the remote to the TV. He had a date with Jennifer Garner and Edward Norton.

* * *

“So, you’re a poli-sci major?” Harry asked. 

“Yeah,” the redhead answered, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “I actually want to be a lawyer, but poli-sci was the recommended first step.”

“Yeah, uh, I think I’ve heard that,” Harry said. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, trying to suss out the best way of retrieving this guy’s name from him without directly asking for it. “Are… is anyone in your family a lawyer?” 

“Oh yeah, my dad and my aunt both,” the redhead said. “They have a firm and everything.” 

“Hm.” Harry took a drink of water. “Pretty popular?” 

“I guess so,” the redhead said. “My dad does family related stuff, and my aunt handles the rest. I’ll probably work for them, once I actually get to that point.” He twirled his fork around in his pasta, looking at Harry. “What about you, Harry? I know that you’re an environmental science major, but do you have a job in mind, after college?” 

“Well, my mom was an environmental lawyer, actually,” Harry said, “but I’m kind of more into plants and the medicinal properties in them, using those to create treatments and stuff.” 

“Oh, that’s interesting,” the redhead said. 

“Funny, no one ever really seems to think that,” Harry said, and the redhead laughed. 

“I do,” he said. “Really. It’s always good to have a passion of some kind, Harry.”

“Mhm,” Harry agreed. He considered his half-eaten plate of spaghetti, and then cleared his throat. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom, really quick. Be right back.”

He moved around the table and up the front of the restaurant, where the bathroom was. He ducked into a stall, and quickly pulled out his phone. 

> ** _Me: _ ** _ What the hell am I supposed to do? This guy isn’t giving me anything. _
> 
> ** _Cheri: _ ** _ Well, how about this: just fucking ask him. _
> 
> ** _Ned:_ ** _ It kind of seems to be your only choice, bro. _
> 
> ** _Peter: _ ** _ Ned introducing himself didn’t work? _
> 
> ** _Me: _ ** _ Obviously not. God, this is so fuckin’ awkward. I swear, he’s called me by *my* name at least seven times, almost like he’s rubbing it in. _
> 
> ** _Peter:_ ** _ Okay, but the idea of that is very funny. _
> 
> ** _Me: _ ** _ Help me! _
> 
> ** _Cheri:_ ** _ Maybe you could ask him to leave the tip, and see if you can read his name off of his driver’s license while he has his wallet out. _
> 
> ** _Me:_ ** _ What do you think, I have super vision? _
> 
> ** _Ned:_ ** _ I don’t know what you want us to tell you. _

Harry sighed to himself, and put his phone away again, silently grumbling about how useless his friends were. He washed his hands, since he was in the bathroom anyway, and then headed back out to the table. The redhead smiled at him as he sat down, and Harry managed to return it, even though he wasn’t feeling it. 

“I’m surprised you don’t plan on taking over Oscorp,” the redhead said after a while. 

“Oh.” Harry shrugged. “Yeah, I dunno. It’s not really my scene, inventing stuff.” 

“No?” 

“Nah,” Harry replied. “I’m the plant guy.”

“Right,” the redhead agreed. 

Harry considered his spaghetti for a moment, before an idea popped into his head like a light bulb going on. He glanced up. “Hey, my dad’s actually been considering finding a new person to handle his estate,” he said. “Do you think your dad or aunt might know someone?” 

“Oh, sure,” the redhead said. “I can write down the number for their firm for you. They’ll find somebody no problem.”

“That’d be great,” Harry said, relaxing a little. That was a step in the right direction. From the firm, he assumed he’d get the redhead’s last name, and from there, he could put his charm to use on campus, and see if he could find out his first name from someone there. 

Yeah, he had it under control, totally. He was Harry Osborn, he could handle anything.

* * *

“You’re an idiot,” Ned said, dryly. 

“What, why?” Harry demanded. “I think it’s a great plan!”

“No one is going to give up student information,” Ned informed him, closing the textbook he’d been reading. “Honestly, Harry, what year do you think we live in?” 

“Who cares about the year? I’m _ Harry Osborn,” _ Harrry said, smartly. “I’ve got charm, _ and _ money, coming out of my ass. The Red Sea would part for me, like I was fuckin’ Moana.” 

Ned gazed at him for a moment, before he shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand you,” he said. “Please don’t involve any of us in this plan, because we don’t want to get dragged down with you when it inevitably turns to shit.”

“It’s not going to turn to shit,” Harry responded. “I’m gonna come back in less than an hour, and I’m going to know the redhead’s first name.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Ned said, waving his hand. “Hey, if you don’t, though, you could always just come up with a fun nickname for him based on his last name.”

Harry paused halfway out the front door. He remained where he was for a long moment, before he mumbled, “Nah,” and kept going.

* * *

He returned to the apartment in a half-hour. Ned was still on the couch, but Peter was there, now, too. They both looked at Harry as he entered.

“So?” Peter prompted. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Harry muttered, stalking out of the front room. The door to his bedroom swung closed. Ned and Peter exchanged an amused look, but then Peter sighed to himself. 

“What?” Ned asked. 

“I owe Cheri ten bucks,” Peter replied, reaching for a magazine.

* * *

“You’re really tense,” the redhead said, massaging Harry’s shoulders. “You doing okay?” 

“Yeah,” Harry replied, trying to force his posture to relax. “I’ve just had a lot to stress about, recently.” He inhaled a little, tilting his head to the side. “Mm, thanks for this.”

“Sure,” the redhead said. “My back was starting to hurt just looking at you.” He dug his thumbs into the space between Harry’s shoulder blades. 

Harry let out a breath. “This isn’t fair of me,” he said quietly. “I… I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” the redhead queried. 

“I, uh…” Harry closed his eyes. “I don’t know what your name is.”

The redhead’s hands stopped moving. Harry winced, expecting the worst. “You don’t know my name?” the redhead asked, sounding as though he didn’t believe it. 

“No,” Harry admitted. “And I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before, but I thought I’d be able to figure it out without, like, hurting your feelings.”

The redhead sighed. “You’re joking,” he said, and Harry shook his head. “You know my _ last _ name.”

“I know,” Harry said, “and I thought I’d be able to figure out what your first name is based off of that, but it didn’t work out.” 

“I can’t believe this,” the redhead said. He walked away from Harry, and Harry turned to face him, watching as he pulled on his coat and scarf. 

“Wait,” Harry said, standing. “You don’t have to leave. I - we can fix this, right?”

“No, of course not,” the redhead exclaimed. “We’ve been on five dates!” 

“I know,” Harry said again, bowing his head. “I’m - I suck.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” the redhead snapped. He headed towards the door, pulling it open. Harry watched, despondent, as he exited the apartment, slamming the door behind him. After a moment, he winced, and then hurried to the window that showed out onto the street.

When he saw the redhead come out of the building, he leaned out the window and shouted, “Can’t you just tell me what it is?” The redhead did not even look back. 

Harry ducked back into the apartment, closing the window again. A few minutes later, the front door opened again, and Peter walked in. 

“Did I pass by the redhead on my way in?” he asked, and Harry nodded. “Mm, you told him?” 

“Had to,” Harry responded. “I felt really bad.” 

“Did you find out what it was, at least?” 

“No,” Harry answered, “and now it’ll haunt me for the rest of my life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your monthly reminder that I would die for Harold T. Osborn.


	29. One Hundred Years Of Solitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheri has to read a book before the end of the semester, and it's April.

**April 7th, 2022 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“Ugh!” Peter looked up, startled, as the door of the apartment opened, loudly, and Cheri came storming through it, looking annoyed. He smiled a bit, sensing that this would only get better. 

“Why’re we groaning?” he queried. 

“Because of  _ this.” _ Cheri appeared behind the couch, and dropped a heavy book into his lap. Peter winced a little, but rotated it around on his lap so that he could see the title. He frowned in confusion, and looked at her. 

_ “One Hundred Years of Solitude?”  _ She made a groaning noise that was meant to be confirmation, and his frown evaporated into a grin. “What’s so bad about it?” 

“I have to read it!” Cheri said, sinking down onto the couch next to him. “Before the end of the semester.” 

Peter’s grin faded as he flipped through the pages of the book. “This whole thing?” Cheri nodded. “And you were only just told to start reading it today?” 

“Uhm…” Cheri’s voice increased slightly in pitch, and Peter exhaled, the corner of his mouth raising. 

“You were assigned it at the beginning of the semester, weren’t you?” he asked her. 

“Yes!” Cheri exclaimed. “I’m a bad student, I know, but it - I felt like my other classes took priority over English 101, which I really should’ve taken last year, but didn’t because I’m stupid.”

“You’re a little stupid,” Peter agreed, and Cheri reached over, rubbing her palm into his face. Peter laughed, pulling her hand away. “Anyway, it’s a really good book; I think you’ll like it.”

“I hate reading, though,” Cheri mumbled, staring despondently at the book he still held. “I get distracted so easily, unless it’s a Stephen King book.” She continued to stare at it for a moment, and then her eyebrows lifted infinitesimally. She looked up at him instead, eyes bright. Peter blinked at her, suddenly wary. 

“What?” he asked her. 

“Will you read it to me?” 

“... sorry?”

Cheri huffed, and patted the book. “I pay more attention when I'm listening to it.”

“Then why don’t you buy the  _ audiobook?” _ Peter suggested, trying to hand the book back over to her. 

“No,” Cheri complained. “It’s always some British dude whose accent I can’t understand doing the narration.” Peter turned his eyes upwards, and Cheri tugged on his elbow. “Please, Queens? I’ll owe you.” 

Peter glanced over at her, took in her expression. _ Fuck, why does she have to be so cute?  _

“Please?” she said again, a bit more quietly now. 

Peter exhaled an exasperated sigh. “Fine,” he said, and Cheri clapped happily, tugging off her shoes and curling up onto the couch next to him. He flipped the book open to the first page, smiling a bit as he silently read the first sentence, and remembered his experience reading this book when he was a junior in high school for a year-long English project. He’d struggled a bit with the Spanish names, so when he gave his final presentation to the entire class, he took the time to make sure he didn’t mess them up. He’d actually been knocked down a few percentage points for how many pauses he’d taken in order to pronounce each name correctly. He hadn’t wanted to get them wrong. 

“Okay,” Cheri said, drawing his attention back to the present. “Please begin when you’re ready.”

Peter shook his head a little, before clearing his throat.  _ “Many years later as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.”  _

He managed to read straight through to chapter four, before needing to take a break. His throat wasn’t hurting, really, but he  _ was _ thirsty. He stuck a finger in place so that he wouldn’t lose the page, and realized that Cheri had, at some point, leaned over, cheek resting against his arm. She straightened up, however, apparently drawn out of the world of the book, and she looked at him, her eyes were shining. Peter didn’t know if she was pretending not to notice she’d leaned against him or not. 

“Why’d you stop?” she asked, and he smiled. 

“I’m thirsty,” he explained. “Gotta get some water.” He placed the book upside down on the coffee table, opened to the right page, and stood, heading towards the kitchen. Cheri trailed after him. 

“I’m kind of impressed with how well you’re pronouncing the names,” she said as he pulled open the fridge to get out the filtered water jug. 

“Yeah, that was something I really focused on when I read it in high school,” he explained, pouring himself a cup of water. He drank some of it before continuing: “I wanted to make sure I pronounced them all correctly during the presentation I had to give on it.”

Cheri lifted her eyebrows a little. “Cool,” she said. “I expected to need to correct you every now and again, but…” She shrugged, and Peter shrugged, finishing the water. He poured some more, and then replaced the jug in the fridge.

“I have many talents,” he said. “I can pronounce Spanish words pretty good, but, y’know, I probably couldn’t translate them for you.”

Cheri laughed, and then she said. “Do you want to keep going? ‘Cause we could take a break.” 

“Nah,” Peter said, walking around her back into the living room. “We need to get through chapter 5, at least.”

“Why?” Cheri asked, following him to the couch again. 

“‘Cause, Remedios and Aureliano end up  _ married.” _

“Fucking  _ what?”  _ Cheri practically leapt onto the couch, and curled up into his side. “Keep reading, quick!” 

Peter did so, smiling a little to himself at her eagerness. He finished up chapter six maybe two hours later, and Cheri sat up, blinking a bit. 

“Wild,” she said, quietly. “Our dude had  _ seventeen children.” _

“I know, right?” Peter finished off the last of the water that remained in the cup. “Like, how did he keep track of them all?” 

“I could probably barely be able to keep track of, like, three, let alone  _ seventeen _ that all have the same name!” They both laughed, and Cheri took the book from him, examining the cover for a moment. She then lifted her gaze back to his. “Thanks, Pete. I might be able to finish it on my own, now, knowing that it’s basically a soap opera.” 

Peter blinked a few times. “No,” he said, quickly, and Cheri tilted her head. “Uh, I mean… I don’t mind reading it to you. And it’s not like we’re not going to have time to finish it.” He gestured towards the book. “I mean, we read six chapters in, like…” He glanced briefly at the time on his phone. “Four hours.”

Cheri chortled. “Yeah,” she said. “Maybe we could beat the world record for the fastest time that  _ One Hundred Years of Solitude _ was read out loud in.”

“I think we probably already lost,” Peter said.

“Probably.” She sighed, kicking her feet out onto the coffee table. “Well, since it’s literally dinner time, you wanna get some food?” 

“I’ll get the take-out menus,” he replied, hopping over the back of the couch to duck into the kitchen. 

Once he was out of sigh, Cheri quickly pulled out her cellphone and typed a message to Harry. 

> _ **Me:** RED ALERT. The boy’s been reading Spanish names out loud to me all day long, and it’s hot.  _
> 
> _ **Harry:** For fuck’s sake.  _
> 
> _ **Me:** THIS IS BAD. _
> 
> _ **Harry:** It’s not bad.  _
> 
> _ **Me:** HOW IS IT NOT BAD?? _
> 
> _ **Harry:** Because, now you know that he’ll fit in with your family super easily. He might even impress them.  _
> 
> _ **Me:** NOT HELPING.  _
> 
> _ **Harry:** I’m not getting involved. I’m tired of trying to convince you to JUST FUCKING TALK TO HIM.  _

“Do you want to get Chinese or pizza?” 

Cheri shoved her phone back into her pocket, and looked towards where Peter stood holding two menus. “Chinese, I think,” she said. “Not really a pizza fan.”

“Right,” Peter said, pointing to her with the pizza menu. “I knew that already.”

He walked back into the kitchen, and Cheri pulled her phone out again. 

> _ **Me:** You suck. Please help me. _
> 
> _ **Harry:** No. Help your damn self. I gotta get this project done tonight before midnight. Leave me alone.  _

Cheri shook her phone in frustration, and put it into her pocket again. Peter returned once more, finishing up placing the food order. He ended the call, and smiled at her. 

“Twenty minutes.”

“Yay,” she said, and turned away again, breathing outwards slowly. _Shit, I want to kiss him._ _Some higher power please help to keep me from kissing him without his permission. _

“Hey, you okay?” 

She glanced at him, and saw he was frowning in concern. Cheri forced a smile, and nodded. “Totally fine,” she assured. She held out a fist toward him, thumb up. “You want to thumb wrestle?” 

Peter lifted his eyebrows, amused. “Why?” he queried, walking over to the couch again. 

“To pass the time,” she said with a shrug. “How’s your voice box?” 

“Operable,” he replied, sitting down. “But uh, I should probably be quiet for a bit, so that it’s fine tomorrow.”

“Right, okay,” Cheri said. She looked around the front room for a moment. “Is there anything you need me to do for you right now?” 

Peter considered, looking thoughtful. After a moment, he reached over to where there was a notepad sitting on the edge of the coffee table, and picked it up. He scribbled out a note, and then held it towards her so that she could see. 

_ “Sing to me,”  _ Cheri read aloud, and then she scoffed, rolling her eyes a little. “Seriously?” Peter nodded, grinning, and Cheri shook her head. “Fine. What do you want me to sing?” 

Peter immediately wrote down an answer on the notepad, and showed it to her. She frowned a little, and looked up at him. 

“I don’t know that one.” Peter made a face, indicative of the fact that he  _ knew _ she was a liar. Cheri sighed. “I can’t sing the whole thing, then. Not  _ well, _ anyway.” He shrugged. “All right, fine, but only because you read to me literally for four hours.” 

Peter grinned, and settled back against the couch cushions, expectant. Cheri had to laugh, but all the same she stood up, pulling out her phone. “If it sucks -” she started, but he flapped a hand in the air dismissively. Her shoulders fell. “All right, but I’m just saying.”

She found a karaoke version of the song he’d requested, and started it. She set her phone down, and Peter tilted his head back and forth excitedly as the music began. Cheri had to look away, heart fluttering.  _ Fuck _ he was cute. 

_ “I was thinkin’ ‘bout her,  _ _   
_ _ Thinkin’ ‘bout me, _ _   
_ _ Thinkin’ ‘bout us, _ _   
_ _ What we gon’ be? _ _   
_ _ I opened my eyes _ _   
_ _ It was only just a dream. _ _   
_ _ So I traveled back down that road _ _   
_ _ Will she come back? _ _   
_ _ No one knows _ _   
_ _ I realize it was only just a dream.” _

She knew the first verse pretty well, thankfully, and only stumbled over the rhythm a little bit; it’d been a while since she’d heard this particular song. Peter didn’t seem to notice, too busy bobbing his head and moving his shoulders. She got through the chorus again as well; the second verse was where she struggled. So much so, in fact, that she eventually elected to just make up her own words that she thought went along with the rhythm, throwing in the lyrics that she  _ did _ remember as she sang. 

_ “When I be riding man I swear I see her face at every turn. _ _   
_ _ Trying to get my Usher on but I can’t let it  _ Burn. _   
_ _ Uhm, and I don’t know the words so I’m making shit up _ _   
_ _ Fuck _ _   
_ _ Why did I agree to this, this sucks so bad _ _   
_ _ Now I’m in the club thinkin’ all about my baby _ _   
_ _ This song is really cool _ _   
_ _ But I still don’t know the words _ _   
_ _ I’m tryin’ to sing along but it’s getting pretty hard _ _   
_ _ I’ve never really been great at improv.  _ _   
_ _ But I made a promise so I gotta move on _ _   
_ _ But man this is so wrong.”  _

Peter was grinning like an absolute fool, and Cheri had to choke back giggles in order to keep singing. She went through the chorus again, and finally reached the best part of the song. 

_ “If you ever loved somebody put your hands up _ _   
_ _ If you ever loved somebody put your hands up _

_ And now they're gone _

_ And you wishing you could give them everything _

_ Everything _ _   
_ _ Hey.” _

Peter had his hands in the air, eyes closed, nodding along to the words as though he felt them in his soul. Cheri smiled as she continued:

_ “Said if you ever loved somebody put your hands up _

_ If you ever loved somebody put your hands up _

_ And now they're gone _ _   
_ _ And you wishing you could give them everything.” _

She sang through the chorus a final time, and then, blessedly, the song ended. Peter stood, applauding, and Cheri bowed at the waist, straightening up again, grinning. “Thank you, New York!” she said, holding out her arms. 

The front door opened, and Ned walked into the apartment. He lifted his eyebrows when he spotted the two of them, swinging the door closed behind him. “The hell’s going on in here?” he asked. 

“Private concert, basically,” Cheri replied, and Peter nodded in agreement. 

“Why aren’t you speaking?” Ned queried, directing it to Peter. 

“He read to me for four hours, so he’s resting his vocal chords,” Cheri explained for him. Peter nodded again. 

Ned looked between them for a long moment, his expression somewhere between concern and amusement. “O… kay,” he said, finally, and started across the front room. “Just… pretend I’m not here.”

He disappeared down the hall, and Cheri turned back to Peter, who lifted his shoulders in a  _ What can you do? _ gesture. Cheri copied it, because she had absolutely no idea. 

Ned, once he was in his room, pulled out his cell phone. 

> _ **Me:** What’re we going to do about these two? _
> 
> _ **Harry:** Absolutely nothing. They’re on their own. We can’t get involved, remember? _
> 
> _ **Me:** But I’m so tired of watching them prance around one another, Harry! _
> 
> _ **Harry: **If neither of them are brave enough to talk to the other, then maybe they shouldn’t be together.  _
> 
> _ **Me:** That’s cold, man.  _
> 
> _ **Harry:** Sorry, it’s been a long night, and it isn’t even over yet. It makes me sad, too, but we can’t do anything. I don’t know about you, but I’ve done what I can to convince them both without outright saying to one or the other that the other one likes them.  _
> 
> _ **Me:** … yeah. I know. It just sucks.  _
> 
> _ **Harry:** It does. Hopefully they’ll realize that, too.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this is becoming more and more of a sitcom every chapter.


	30. Spoiled Rich Kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has something to complain about, and he's absolutely right to do so.

**April 25th, 2022 - Space Market - 1 University Pl, New York, NY, USA**

“I’m going to commit  _ murder,”  _ Harry seethed, pushing open the door of the market. He didn’t hold it open for Cheri, not that she’d been expecting him to. She managed to catch it before it could swing shut again, and smack her in the face. 

“I wasn’t also entering the building or anything!” she called to Harry, who ignored her in favor of continuing his rant to no one in particular. Cheri sighed to herself, joining him at the counter. The store owner, Mrs. Jones, smiled at them both. 

“Hey, kiddos,” she said, cheerfully. “How’re you doing today?” 

“Mrs. Jones, would you be a witness for me if I was tried for murder?” Harry asked her. Mrs. Jones blinked, and Cheri chuckled blandly, brushing Harry away from the counter and towards the tables that took up the majority of the space. 

“Sorry about him,” she said, kindly. “He had a bad day. Could we get our usuals? Peter and Ned should be meeting us here, too.”

“Got it,” Mrs. Jones said, ringing up the order. “You paying?” 

Cheri held up Harry’s wallet, which she’d tugged from his pocket as she’d pushed him away. Mrs. Jones snorted, but accepted Harry’s card from her, ringing all the meals up at the discounted student price. She handed Cheri the card again, and said, “They’ll be ready in a minute.”

“Thanks,” Cheri said, and walked away from the counter to join Harry, who’d sunk down into one of the seats at the table they usually claimed for themselves. She could almost see the anger smoke rising from the top of his head. 

“I just - how can you be an  _ environmental science major, _ and not realize that climate change is a  _ real _ issue?” he demanded, hotly, again not speaking directly to Cheri, so she did not feel obligated to provide an answer. 

Instead, she rolled her eyes, and settled down into a chair across the table from him. The door to the store opened, and she glanced over her shoulder to see both Peter and Ned had arrived. She grinned, and tilted her head, indicating for them to join her and Harry. They did so, waving to Mrs. Jones as they passed by the counter. Peter sat in the chair next to Cheri, and Ned settled down in the one beside Harry, although he scooted away a few inches, clearly sensing his mood almost at once. 

“What’s up?” Peter asked, draping his arm over the back of Cheri’s chair. 

“I’m going to kill someone,” Harry announced. 

“Well, don’t tell us about it,” Ned said. “I don’t want to be tried for aiding and abetting.”

“Wouldn’t we be accessories?” Cheri asked, and Peter shook his head. 

“That’d only be if we  _ helped _ him kill the person,” he explained. 

“Ah,” Cheri said, and she looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “Why do you know that?”

_ “Law and Order.” _

“Oh, right, duh,” Cheri said, grinning. 

“Food’s ready, kids!” Mrs. Jones called from the counter. Cheri stood up to go grab the sandwiches, and Peter went with her. They brought all four back, and Cheri remember to slide Harry’s wallet back over to him. He looked down at it, unmoving, arms crossed over his chest. 

“So, what has you debating murder?” Ned queried, unwrapping his sandwich. 

“Stupid idiots who still think climate change is a myth,” Harry muttered, glaring at his own sandwich. Ned and Peter both groaned at the same time, and Cheri chortled, taking a bite of her wrap. Harry glared at all three of them in turn. “What?” he snapped. 

“This happens  _ at least _ once a semester,” Peter said. 

“And you always complain about it for a week,” Ned added. 

“And then we don’t hear about it again until it happens the next semester,” Cheri finished. 

Harry looked flabbergasted. “This mother - okay, we were talking about the permafrost methane levels, right, and how goddamn fucking high they are? And this bitch, this  _ motherfucker, _ had the  _ audacity _ to say something along the lines of, “Well, cows are producing methane every day, and everyone’s still eating  _ steak. _ No one’s died from  _ their _ methane.” Like, what the  _ fuck _ does that have to do with  _ anything?” _

“Harry -”

“So I said, “Well, actually, methane produced by cows has been curbed pretty significantly by attempts by farmers to alter food sources, and if temperatures continue to rise the way they are, all the methane in the permafrost is gonna enter the atmosphere and trap even more greenhouse gases, speeding up climate change even more.” And this kid looks at me, scoffs, and goes, “Climate change isn’t happening, dude.” As if we haven’t spent the whole  _ fucking _ semester talking about the evidence  _ proving _ that climate change  _ is _ happening!” 

Harry’s voice had risen to an unholy pitch that made Cheri squeeze one eye shut. Ned, sitting right next to him, had scooted his chair even further away. Peter leaned across the table and placed a hand over Harry’s mouth. Harry blinked at him, and then scowled. 

“You’re being  _ too loud,” _ Peter said, gently. He yelped, then, and pulled his hand back across the table. 

“What?” Cheri asked. 

“He  _ licked _ my palm!” Peter exclaimed, and he wiped his hand off on her sleeve. 

“Ew,” she said flatly, and took another bite of her wrap. 

“I just don’t understand how some kid like  _ that _ gets let into the environmental science program!” Harry continued, as though the last minute and a half hadn’t occurred. 

“Well, look at it this way,” Ned began. “He’ll probably flunk out, at some point, while you’re going to get your degree in the subject you care about.” 

Harry continued to glare at the tabletop for a moment, before he said, a little more quietly, “You think he’ll flunk out?” 

“Probably,” Cheri said. She pointed to him with her wrap. “Who wants to get good grades and stay in college for a major that they’re going to be struggling in sooner rather than later?” 

“I don’t know,” Harry sighed. “Maybe he’s a spoiled rich kid.” He looked up before any of them could speak, and snapped, “I am  _ not _ spoiled. My father hates me.”

“I don’t think he  _ hates _ you,” Peter said, carefully. “He just… probably shouldn’t have been a dad at all. I mean, he pays for more than half of the rent on the apartment, so.”

“Yeah, but that’s only ‘cause there’s three of us living there,” Harry mumbled. “If I was by myself, he’d probably let me end up on the street.” He paused, and then shook his head. “Whatever, that’s not what we’re talking about.”

Cheri and Peter exchanged a glance, while Ned went on to reassure Harry that the shit kid he was having trouble with would no doubt be gone by the following semester. Cheri lifted her shoulders in response to the worry in Peter’s eyes. Norman Osborn had always been the worst, since she and Harry were kids. There was no changing anything, not unless Osborn had a complete turn-around. It just made their friendship with Harry even more important; that was the way she’d always felt, anyhow. 

“I guess I won’t commit murder,” Harry said, sighing. “It’d be a pain to deal with the legalities.” 

“Glad you’re seeing sense,” Cheri told him, finishing her wrap. She crumpled up the paper, and placed it into the center of the table, crossing her arms on the top of it. “We’re all still going to see the musical, right?” 

“Are you going to ask us that once a week until it happens?” Ned questioned, an eyebrow raised, and Cheri nodded. 

“I just want to make sure. I don’t want to go alone.”

“You know you’d never end up going alone,” Harry said with a roll of his eyes. 

“Yeah, I already said I’d go,” Peter added. He nudged her with his elbow. “I’ll even buy concessions.”

Cheri glanced at him, amused. “Big word.”

“I’ve learned a lot of theater terminology being friends with you,” he replied, grinning. 

Ned and Harry looked at one another, and stuck their tongues out at the same time. Peter pretended not to notice; he wasn’t sure if Cheri was doing the same, or if she really hadn’t. 

“We done?” he asked, grabbing Cheri’s garbage as well as his own. 

“Yeah, here,” Ned said, pushing his forward. Harry did the same, and Peter carried all of the trash over to the trash can. Harry looked at Cheri while he was up, an eyebrow raised. Cheri ignored him. 

Peter returned, picking up his backpack. “Home?” 

“Yep,” Harry said, turning away from Cheri. “C’mon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is your monthly reminder that I would do anything for Harold T. Osborn enjoy the rest of your day.


	31. Turning Their Bodies Into Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's that one Unus Annus video, but the Trio plus Cheri.

**April 30th, 2022 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“We’ve put it off literally as long as possible,” Harry said, stepping into the front room wearing only his plush, blue bathrobe. Peter was in there already, also only wearing a bathrobe. He had been staring blankly down at the floor, but at Harry’s entrance, he looked up, and then visibly winced. “What?” Harry asked. 

“I just - I don’t know,” Peter muttered. “Maybe it’d be easier if we did it one at a time?” 

“No!” Ned exclaimed, coming out of the kitchen. The hem of his bathrobe danced above his knees. “I already said that the only way I’m doing this is if we’re all naked at the same time.” 

“Why did we agree to this?” Peter sighed. “Why?” 

“We lost the bet,” Harry said. He undid the tie on his bathrobe, and let it fall to the ground. 

“Whoa! What the fuck!” Ned shouted, putting his hand over his eyes. 

“I thought we were going,” Harry said, frowning in confusion. “Were we not disrobing?”

“Are you guys all indecent yet?” Cheri called from the hallway. 

“No, but Harry is,” Peter called back. He straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the couch, and glanced at Ned. “Are you ready?” 

“No,” Ned mumbled, but reached up to put his hands on the tie of his bathrobe anyway. 

“Just do it,” Harry encouraged, walking over to the two easles that were leaning against one wall. 

“Okay.” Peter let out a breath. “One, two, three.”

He let his robe drop, and Ned followed an instant later. They stood in silence for a moment, very carefully not looking at one another. 

“Not so bad,” Ned said. 

“No, we just gotta be careful not to look one another in the eyes,” Peter agreed. 

“Who’s drawing first?” Harry asked cheerfully, moving two of the easels to the center of the room. 

“Am I coming out now?” Cheri asked, doing so without receiving an answer. 

“God, Cheri, give us a second,” Ned said, hotly, placing a hand over his crotch. 

Cheri, who had a video camera lifted her to eye, merely scoffed. “I’ve seen Harry naked, and I’ve seen Pete about as close to naked as I should see a platonic friend,” she said. “And, Ned, I’ve seen you in your underwear. This is nothing.”

“Why is it that a recording was a stipulation of the bet?” Peter asked Harry, who’d finished setting up the easels, and the stool that the subject would be using to pose. 

“I dunno. So it’s confirmed that we actually did it naked, instead of just faked it?” Harry said with a shrug. 

At the beginning of the semester, the three of them had bet one of Ned’s classmates that they’d be able to make it through to the end of the semester without going to a meeting with a professor. All three of them were known meeting makers, whether it be to get a clarification on a project, or just to get an in with an instructor. All three of them had failed in this bet, within the first month of school. 

As such, they’d been given until the end of the semester to film a video of themselves drawing one another naked. They were to produce the video, edit it, and then present it and the drawings to the person they’d made the bet with. It was all very humiliating, but they’d never be closer as friends than they were in that moment. 

“I was thinking about it,” Peter started, “and I remember that I’ve seen Ned naked.”

“When?” Ned asked, eyes trained on the ceiling. 

“When we were kids,” Peter replied. “I’m - obviously, things have probably _ changed _ since then.” 

“Cut,” Ned instructed, making a scissors motion towards the camera. Cheri grinned behind it. 

“But the point is, I’ve seen your dick,” Peter concluded. 

“I’m going to pose first,” Harry decided, considering he’d been waiting for someone to make a decision for close to three minutes, and no one had. 

“Okay,” Ned said agreeably enough, and stepped up to one of the easels. Peter joined him at the other one, and they reached for their drawing tools, which was just a child’s artistry kit, that included crayons, markers, those charcoal things, and paints, which they’d been forbidden from using for the sake of not ruining the carpet. 

“Make it a good one,” Cheri said, aiming the camera at Harry. 

He struck his pose, one of his legs stuck out behind him, the other raised up on the stool, which made for a pretty obscene final result. Cheri made a face, and blew out a breath, before relaxing again. 

“Very good,” she concluded, and walked back behind the easels. Ned had already set to work, and Peter was examining the colors he had to choose from. 

“Pale,” he said after a second, and reached for a crayon. Next to him, Ned snickered. 

“To be fair, you all definitely didn’t have to be naked at the same time,” Cheri commented after a moment, zooming in on first Ned’s drawing, and then on Peter’s, before focusing the camera back on Harry. 

“It would’ve made sense not to have been,” he said, “but Ned’s a wuss.”

“I just didn’t want to be the only one in the nude at any one time,” Ned replied when Cheri swung the camera back to face him instead. 

“Hey, uh… how long do you think you’ll be drawing for?” Harry asked. 

“Dunno,” Peter said, switching crayons. “How long can you hold that pose?” 

Harry adjusted a little, his leg twitching. “Long enough,” he said, resolute. 

A pretty focused silence followed this. Ned and Peter continued to draw, and Harry did his best not to look as though he was struggling to hold his position. 

“This is going to be the most boring video ever,” Cheri decided after a moment. 

Ned made a grunting sound, and turned to face her, holding out his arm. “Are you not _ entertained?” _he exclaimed, grandly. 

Cheri snorted. “You’re right, sorry,” she said. “I’m very entertained.”

She paced around the room for a few more minutes, before circling back around Ned and Peter. She paused, and then thoughtfully zoomed in on Peter’s butt for a moment. How in the world was it so perfectly… butt?

“Hey, I see you back there!” Harry said, and Cheri quickly raised the camera again. 

“I wasn’t doing anything,” she said. 

“Yeah, right. We’ll be checking the playback,” Harry replied, knowingly. 

“I’ve finished,” Ned announced. “Peter?”

“Almost,” Peter said, his tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth. “Just gotta… finish the shading.”

For some reason, this struck them all as very funny, because they burst out laughing in tandem. Cheri adjusted her grip on the video camera, zooming in on Ned’s final product, before switching over to Peter’s. 

“Well,” she said. “They could be worse.”

“I want to see,” Harry said, moving away from the stool and around to the rear of the easels. He took in the works of art of himself, head cocked to the side, and then said, amused, “Thanks for being so generous, Ned.”

“Fuck off,” Ned grumbled, and marched over to the stool. 

“Mm,” Peter mused thoughtfully, as he and Harry switched to new canvases. “A different subject.” 

“You were going to say a _ thicker _ subject, weren’t you?” Ned demanded, hotly. 

“No,” Peter answered. “Of course not. I’m not a dick.”

“Yes you are,” Ned told him, and considered the stool for a moment. “I’m gonna sit,” he decided, looking at Cheri. “Is that fine?” 

“I’m not the one drawing you,” she said. 

Ned sat without consulting the boys who _ were _ drawing him, and then leaned one elbow on his knee, much like the Thinker. “Good?” he asked. 

“Yeah, great,” Harry said, already drawing. 

Cheri walked around behind the easels, and chortled. “Why’re you -?”

“Shh, don’t spoil it,” Harry mumbled, holding up his free hand in her direction. 

“What’s he doing?” Ned yelped, alarmed. 

“Nothing,” Cheri said after a moment, head tilted as she focused the camera on the rainbow nipples that Harry had thoughtfully drawn onto his version of Ned. 

The drawing of Ned took a bit less time than the one of Harry, no doubt because his pose was a little more traditional. Peter finished first, this time. He then he looked over at Harry’s, and let out a bark of laughter, putting his hand over his mouth, slouching over, shoulders shaking. 

“What?” Ned whined. “Cheri, what did he do to me?” 

“Why don’t you come see for yourself, buddy?” Harry said, sweetly, stepping back from the easel. 

Ned did so, and he let out a noise of consternation when he laid eyes on Harry’s creative work. “What the _ fuck, _ Harold?” he asked, flatly. 

“I took liberties,” Harry explained.

Cheri turned the camera back towards Peter, who was still laughing to himself. 

“Shut up, Peter,” Ned said, heatedly, and reached over to swat at the back of his head. 

“Sorry,” Peter said, straightening up again. He blew out a breath to steady himself, and then walked over to the stool. “What should I do?” he asked. 

“Flex,” Harry said, helpfully. Cheri kicked him in the back of the leg, and Harry cursed, lowly, but didn’t react otherwise. 

“I’m not going to flex,” Peter responded. He considered the stool for a moment, and then cleared his throat, before lifting one foot and placing it on top of it. He then rested his elbow on his knee, and his head in his hand. “How’s this?”

“Boring, but fine,” Ned said after a moment of contemplation. Both he and Harry set to work. Cheri did her best not to focus the camera on only Peter, which she thought was pretty impressive of herself, considering how good he looked. 

Thankfully, she didn’t have to struggle for very long, even though she sensed that Harry was doing what he could to prolong his own drawing, without making it obvious. 

“All right, that’s it,” Ned said, tossing his crayon off to the side. It was interesting how it became less weird that three of the four of them were buck naked, the more time that went on. 

“Harry?” Peter prompted. 

“Almost,” Harry said. “Just… a few more… lines. Gotta get all those hard-earned creases, if y’know what I mean.”

“Sick,” Ned said, without much infliction. 

“Okay,” Harry said after another thirty seconds. He took a step back, and Cheri moved forward to get a good shot of both his and Ned’s drawings of Peter. 

“Why didn’t you take liberties with _ him?” _ Ned asked, and Harry shrugged as Peter joined them to look at the drawings himself. 

“He’s already a work of art.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Peter said, a light blush coloring his cheeks. “Can we put our robes back on now?”

“For the love of God, please put your robes back on,” Cheri said, flicking the camera off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I wanted to post another chapter of this part of the universe before I went on break officially, too.)  
(I will see y'all next week for true this time, swear it.)  
(Also if anyone wants to create an approximation of Harry's drawing of Ned, I'd be very grateful.)


	32. Little Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not really, though. This chapter doesn't have anything to do with Little Shop of Horrors, except for the very beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's pretend the last chapter didn't even happen.

**May 13th, 2022 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

_ “Suddenly Seymour is standing beside me! _ _  
_ _ Suddenly Seymour showed me I can!” _

_ “Yes you can!” _

Cheri and Ned burst into guffaws while Peter and Harry exchanged a long-suffering look. They hadn’t stopped singing bits and pieces of songs from _ Little Shop of Horrors _ since the four of them had returned to the apartment an hour prior. Both Peter and Harry were getting sick of it. 

The thing that bothered Harry the most was that neither of them seemed capable of deciding which character they wanted to play. Cheri kept switching between Seymour, Audrey, _ and _ Audrey II. Ned would simply take up whichever part was opposite the one she’d chosen. He couldn’t believe Ned knew all the songs well enough to be able to do that. 

Not that Ned was singing _ well, _but. 

“They’re almost out of songs,” he muttered lowly to Peter, who was sitting next to him on the couch while Ned and Cheri sang in the kitchen. 

“They’ll just go back to the beginning and sing different parts,” Peter mumbled back, arms crossed. “At least Cheri _ sounds _ good.” 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he leaned up to pull it out. After reading the alert, he winced, and glanced over at Harry, who’d placed one of the throw pillows on the couch over his face. Peter stood up, and ducked into his bedroom, hoping that Ned and Cheri were too preoccupied with their performance to notice that he’d gone. 

Herman Schultz. Shocker. Back at it again, apparently. Peter hadn’t had to deal with him since Adrian Toomes had been wreaking havoc with his alien technology and weapons. Peter had assumed that Shocker had stopped causing problems because he no longer had the material to work with that gave him his… destructive capabilities. 

Apparently not. 

He started to tug off his shirt, in order to get changed into his suit. Since he hadn’t stopped Shocker before, it seemed only fair that it was his job to do it now. 

There was a knock on his bedroom door, just as he was starting to slip his jeans off. 

“Uh… yeah?” he called, hoping that whoever was on the other side wouldn’t open it. 

“Come back!” Cheri’s voice returned. “Ned and I will stop singing!”

Peter exhaled a breath. “No,” he said. “I refuse. You’ve ruined your chances of experiencing the pleasure of my company.” 

“But we were gonna play Clue!” Cheri complained. “We can’t play Clue with only three people!” 

“Sucks,” Peter answered. 

He heard Cheri groan, but then stomp away down the hall. He smiled a little to himself, relieved that that had worked. He then finished changing, and headed for his window, ducking through it after pulling down his mask. He swung across the street to the opposite building. 

“Where’s he at?” he asked, and Karen immediately pinpointed Shocker’s location for him on his HUD. Peter headed that way, hoping that he’d be able to deal with this quickly.

* * *

Peter flipped out of the way of a shock wave, landing sideways on a building. “Shocker, buddy, seriously,” he began, standing up straight and holding out his arms to either side. “Can’t we just talk this out?” 

Shocker responding by whipping out more pressure from the weird gauntlets he wore on either arm, leaving Peter to jump from the building, back to the shattered sidewalk that the wave had struck moments before. He sighed a little. “Fine, guess not,” he said, and he aimed a web at a building behind Shocker, so that he’d be able to swing up from behind him, avoiding the pressurized power. 

Much to his surprise, Shocker merely rotated, and sent a reverb of it through the web. It shot up and down the length of it, straight into the hand that Peter was holding it in. The force struck him hard, and he gasped, falling back down onto the street, twitching. He could barely roll out of the way as another whip lashed out towards him, but he did, and staggered to his feet. 

“Yeesh,” he managed, teeth still chattering a little from the shock. “Maybe I need to insulate my suit.”

“Face it, web-boy!” Shocker shouted at him from down the street. “Ain’t no stopping me. You’re outmatched!” 

Peter let out a breath. He sort of had a point; he’d been struggling to figure out how best to take Shocker down for closing in on thirty minutes. The aftermath of their fight littered the street behind the villain. Shocker was able to cut through his webs, and his pressurized shock wave power seemed limitless, striking whenever it needed to. Peter’s only chance seemed to be catching him by surprise, and coming in from behind, since Shocker couldn’t aim that direction. 

He hadn’t managed to find the opportunity, however. 

He looked around, avoiding different shock wave bolts as he did so, and his gaze landed on a sewer cover in the center of the street, maybe ten feet away. If he could get down there, and pop up behind Shocker further down the street, he’d be able to take him down. 

First, though, he needed to distract him. 

“Herman, old pal,” he began, holding up his hands. “It’s really impressive that you’ve managed to create this sort of endless energy for yourself. You ever consider selling it?” 

“No,” Shocker snapped in response. “It’s mine.”

“Well, duh,” Peter said. “I get that, obviously.” He glanced up, and spotted a street light, positioned very helpfully over where Shocker stood. “Still, though, you’d probably get a good price for it,” he continued, trailing his eyes up the building on the same side of the street as the light. This was a stupid plan, but if he could pull down some of the rock the building was made of, get it to knock over the streetlight, it would hit Shocker over the head, and give him time to get down into the sewer. He was basing this on the notion that, even if Shocker pressurized the web he was using, he’d still be able to get down into the sewer before Shocker recovered from getting hit by the rubble, which was unlikely, considering how hard it’d hit him before. 

Plus, he didn’t know if there were people in the building. The last thing he wanted to do was pull it down, and risk injuring anybody. He needed a different plan. 

First, maybe, he needed to get closer to the sewer cover. He did so, moving slowly, but was forced to leap backwards when Shocker struck out at him. 

“No more chit-chat,” Shocker snapped. “Let’s finish this.”

“It’s not so easy to finish something between two dudes who like to fight from a distance,” Peter said. “I mean, this is only going to end in one or the other of us on the ground, right? And with neither of us being able to get close enough to knock the other down… this is probably going to go on for a while.”

Even as he was preparing to take another shock, in order to try and get behind Shocker again, however, the villain was suddenly struck in the back by what sounded and looked like a repulsor beam. Shocker went rolling forward, and Peter very quickly stuck him to the group with a thick layer of webbing. He then glanced towards where Tony was settling down on the ground, Iron Man suit glowing in all the lighting from the buildings around them. 

“Hey,” he greeted, joining Peter. “Looked like you needed some help.”

“I didn’t,” Peter said, dryly, and he looked down at Shocker. “I had it figured out.”

“Right,” Tony said, and he gestured towards the other end of the street, which was ripe with destruction. “Definitely seems that way.”

Peter decided to ignore the sarcasm. “Why’re you here?” 

“I got pinged,” Tony said. “Something that hit you went over the armor capacity of the suit, indicating serious injury levels. Karen alerts FRIDAY as soon as something like that happens, just in case you are seriously injured.” He looked Peter up and down. “You don’t seem to be, though.”

“I’m not,” Peter grumbled, although he could feel how sore he was going to be tomorrow, as an aftermath of the shocks that he’d been dealt. “I guess the suit didn’t know what to make of the energy this guy produced.” He looked at Tony again, or, rather, looked at the face of the Iron Man. “I didn’t need you to come down here.” 

“Well, I got a notification that said otherwise,” Tony retorted, “and I helped out. Who knows how much more damage the two of you would’ve caused if I hadn’t shown up.” The thrusters on the Iron Man’s boots lit up, and he hovered into the air. “Glad to see you aren’t critically injured.” 

With that, he flew off, leaving Peter to glare after him. He was tired of Tony showing up at the tail end of a fight, just to deal the bad guy the final blow, before flying off again. It only happened whenever Peter did happen to be hurt pretty badly, but still, it was enough to be frustrating, to imply that Tony didn’t think Peter could handle things on his own. He _ could, _ just… it took him a little longer, sometimes. 

Police sirens sounded in the distance, and Peter exhaled a breath, before straightening his shoulders. The aftermath needed to be dealt with; he wanted to make sure that Shocker’s equipment was confiscated and locked into a secure vault, so that he wouldn’t be able to get at it again, if he ever got out of prison. The cops would be smart enough to do that on their own, but Peter liked to be certain of it. It helped him sleep better at night. 

After he’d talked to the police, and seen Shocker shoved into the back of a police car, stripped of his gauntlets and suit, Peter headed back towards the apartment. As he went, he had Karen send a text to Tony, telling him that it’d been dealt with, and to _ please _ let Peter handle it on his own the next time, no matter what kind of notification he got from the suit. 

Tony’s response was a short: _ We’ll talk about it later, _ which implied that he had absolutely zero plans to do as Peter asked, and even wanted to yell at him in person about how ridiculous an idea it was. 

Peter hated being a dependent, even if that dependency only came in the form of his Spider-Man suit. 

He arrived back at the apartment and crawled in through his bedroom window with a sigh. Shucking off the suit in the dark, mostly because he was too tired to make the trek across the room to turn the light on, he then dragged himself into his bed, only to realize that he wasn’t lying in it alone. 

“Jesus!” he exclaimed, and jumped out from under the covers again, pressing back against the opposite wall of the room. The light on the bedside table flicked on, and he gaped at Cheri, who was rubbing her eyes, yawning. After a moment, she remembered that she’d been awoken by something, and her eyes widened as she took in Peter. 

“Shit, Pete, I’m - fuck, I’m _ so _ sorry,” she stammered, scrambling from the bed. “It - I - uhm. It was dark, and Harry and Ned suggested I just stay here, and you _ weren’t _ here, so we figured - I’m _ so _ sorry.” 

The bedroom door swung open, and Ned stood in the doorway, blinking wearily at them both. “What the fuck?” he asked, frowning. “People are trying to sleep.”

Peter’s heart had finally settled, relatively, and he exhaled a calming breath. “I didn’t expect Cheri to be _ in my bed,” _ he said. 

“Sorry,” Cheri said again, meekly. “I’ll go on the couch.”

“No, just -” Peter waved his hand at the bed, brushing Ned backwards out of the doorway. “I’ll take the couch. I don’t want to deal with it right now.”

Without waiting for a response, he swung the door shut and headed towards the living room. Ned followed him, much to Peter’s annoyance, and stood in the background while Peter sank down onto the couch, fluffing up the throw pillow that was already there. 

“Do you want a blanket?” his friend asked, helpfully. 

“No,” Peter muttered, burying his face into the pillow. “Go back to sleep.”

After a moment, he heard Ned shuffle back off down the hallway, and his bedroom door close behind him. Maybe thirty seconds later, during which Peter had already begun to doze off, he heard his own bedroom door open. Cheri quietly crept down the hall, and he heard her stop in the archway, peering out into the darkened living room. 

“Go back to my room, Cher,” Peter told her without moving. 

“No,” she insisted, and moved closer to the couch. He felt her lean over the back of it. “It was unfair of me to assume that just because you were gone it meant you’d stay gone. I should’ve taken the couch.” 

“Seriously, Cheri, I’m too tired to talk about whether or not it was stupid of you to go to sleep in my bed,” Peter said, still refusing to even lift his head. “Please, for the love of God, go back to sleep, so that _ I _ can sleep.”

There was silence, but Peter knew that Cheri did not walk away. After a moment, he sighed, and forced himself upright, glaring at her through the darkness. 

“Fine,” he said, dryly, standing. “If _ you _ won’t sleep in my bed, _ I _ will.” He stalked past her and down the hall to his room, shutting the door behind him. He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow, but his dreams were filled with Cheri, most likely because of the way the smell of her shampoo lingered in his nostrils, due to the fact that she’d been using the pillow he slept on. 

The following morning, Peter did wake up sore, and feeling guilty. He hadn’t actually been angry with Cheri for taking his bed; after all, he hadn’t been using it, and if he hadn’t been home at, like, midnight or whenever it was that she’d decided to go to bed, what was there to indicate that he’d _ be _ coming home? His annoyance from the night before had been based entirely in his failed attempt to defeat Shocker, and the conversation he’d had with Tony. 

He needed to apologize to Cheri. 

Despite the twitchiness of his muscles, and how difficult it was to move, he made his way out into the hall and to the front room of the apartment. The couch was as he’d left it, throw pillow haphazardly tossed against the arm, unused. He frowned a little, and glanced around. Cheri’s bag, which usually rested on the floor next to the front door, was gone. 

She’d already left, probably right after he’d gone into his room. 

Peter sighed, a little, and retreated back to his bedroom to find his cell phone. After checking the time to make sure it wasn’t a ridiculous hour, he dialed her number. She picked up on the third ring; from the sound of her voice, it was because she’d debated not answering, and not because she’d been asleep. 

“Hey,” she said, quietly.

“Hi,” Peter returned. “Listen, I’m really sorry about last night. I was pissed off about something, and I took it out on you.” He managed a smile. “You know that you can sleep in my bed whenever you want.”

Cheri responded with a light laugh. “Yeah?” she asked, and then she exhaled. “I’m sorry, too, Pete. I shouldn’t have assumed that you wouldn’t be coming home. We had no idea where you’d gone, but then Ned said that sometimes you stay with Mr. Stark, so we thought - anyway, it was rude of me, and won’t happen again, not unless I ask you first.” 

“I should’ve texted someone, though,” Peter said. “That was my bad.”

“No, don’t blame yourself,” Cheri sighed. “Please. It was completely our fault. Mine especially.” There was a moment of silence, and then she spoke again, a grin in her voice: “Although, I’m not gonna lie, it was great being able to see you without your shirt on again.”

Peter almost swallowed his tongue. To his credit, he managed to recover with a joke: “Please, it had to have been a rude awakening.”

Cheri snickered. “I mean, it _ was _ kind of upsetting,” she said. “I’d been having a really nice dream.” 

Peter’s thoughts flickered to his own dreams, which had featured her, and he had to take a moment. “Mm,” he hummed. “Tell me about it?” 

“Nah, too embarrassing,” Cheri answered, and then she cleared her throat. “Anyway, uh… we’re good?”

“Duh,” Peter said. “What’re you gonna do today?” 

Cheri blew out a raspberry. “I have an arrangement that I need to finish for one of my methods classes,” she responded. “That’s going to be fun.” 

“Well, if you need a break, I’m always ready with a Hangman puzzle,” Peter told her. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Cheri said. “Thanks, Queens. Talk to you later?”

“Hope so,” he said. “Have a good day.”

“You too.”

Peter ended the call and lowered his phone. Maybe two seconds later, his bedroom door opened, and he blinked at Harry, who was glowering at him with a barely suppressed fire in his eyes. 

_ “Explain _ to me,” he began, dryly, “why you refuse to ask her out?” 

Peter exhaled a breath, and closed his eyes. So much for a peaceful Saturday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not posting over spring break AND self-isolating was the worst. People need content, dammit.


	33. Feminine Products

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter helps Cheri out.

**May 24th, 2022 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

Peter glanced up from his study materials when he heard Cheri clear her throat, quietly, from where she was on the floor. He looked down at her, an eyebrow lifted. 

“Yes?” he asked. 

She started to reply, but then let out a breath and shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “I’ll ask Harry, text him when he's on his way.”

“What is it?” Peter said, lifting his gaze to the ceiling for a moment. 

Cheri sighed. “I need…” She trailed off, and made a face. “Feminine products.” 

Peter blinked, several times. “Feminine products? As in…” 

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” Peter reached up, and rubbed the back of his neck. “And… you… are incapable of getting them yourself?” he asked. 

“You think I’m lying on the floor because I like it down here?” Cheri replied, a little hotly. 

Peter quickly put up his hands. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, wary. “Just - you drove in, so -”

“I know,” Cheri replied, resting her head on her arm. 

“So?”

“It _ hurts, _ Queens,” she grumbled. “I know you don’t _ get it, _ but I thought, considering we’re good friends, you might be willing to help me out.” 

“I am,” Peter said, quickly. He moved his study stuff off of his lap and stood. “Of course I am. I just… I’ve never bought that kind of stuff before, so I don’t really know what I’ll be looking for.”

“Ugh, this would be so much easier if I just fuckin’ left some here,” Cheri said. She reached for her phone, and spent a moment online, looking for an image of the box she usually bought for herself. She then sent that picture to Peter, who examined it for a moment. 

“Okay,” he concluded after a moment. “I’ll be back.”

“Wait, let me give you some cash,” Cheri said, and Peter waved his hand. 

“No, don’t worry about it,” he said. “Do you want anything else?” Cheri was quiet, and he smiled a little. “Some chocolate, maybe?”

“Peanut M&Ms?” Cheri asked, hopefully, and Peter nodded. 

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” He pointed to her work. “Keep studying.”

“I am,” Cheri replied, pressing her face into the middle of her notebook to prove it. 

Peter laughed, and exited the apartment, heading downstairs. As he was leaving the building, he spotted Ned, coming up the sidewalk. “Hey,” he greeted. 

“Where’re you going?” Ned asked, and Peter gestured. 

“Cheri needs feminine things, and asked me to go get them for her. Want to come?” 

Ned considered it for a moment, and then he shrugged. “Yeah, all right. Where’re we going?” 

“Let’s just go to the Rite Aid, I guess,” Peter replied. “I don’t really know where else we’d buy these things.”

“Okay,” Ned agreed. “Do you know what kind?”

“She sent me a picture.”

“Good,” Ned said. “I don’t want to stand in that aisle for forever.”

Peter looked at him, amused. “Are you scared of it?” 

“No, not scared,” Ned answered. “Just… y’know. I don’t belong down there.”

“‘Cause you’re a dude?”

“Exactly. And a dude without a girlfriend, on top of that.” He frowned to himself, and glanced at Peter. “You don’t have a girlfriend, either.”

“No,” Peter allowed, “but… Cheri is my friend who’s a girl, and she asked me to do this for her.”

Ned smirked. “You’re in love with her,” he said. 

“How many times do we have to go over this?” Peter sighed. 

“Forever, until you admit it,” Ned responded. 

“Why did I invite you to come with me?” Peter asked no one. 

“Because, deep down, you’re scared, too,” Ned told him. 

Peter was silent for a moment. “Yeah, you’re right,” he admitted at last. “I should’ve made Harry do it.”

* * *

“How _ dare _ they charge women _ eight _ dollars for a device that ensures they don’t… bleed all over their panties!” Ned exclaimed, gaping at the prices. 

“It’s pretty ridiculous,” Peter agreed, glancing between his phone and the shelves, trying to find the box that matched the one in the picture. They all looked so similar. “Am I missing something?” he asked, softly. 

“Here, let me see,” Ned said, reaching for his phone. Peter showed him the screen, and Ned examined it for a moment. “Ah, yeah, see, this one’s got, like, a yellow bar on the bottom,” he said, and then he looked back at the shelf. He pointed. “That one.”

Peter pulled the box Ned had indicated off the shelf, and looked it over, comparing it to the picture. It looked right. 

“Okay,” he said. “She asked for peanut M&Ms, too.”

“Can I get a KitKat?” Ned asked, hopefully. 

“Yeah, sure,” Peter sighed. “Grab hers while you’re down that aisle.”

“Okay,” Ned said, cheerfully, and walked off. Peter took a picture of the box he’d grabbed, and sent it to Cheri. 

> ** _Me: _ ** _ Is this right? _
> 
> ** _Cher: _ ** _ Yes, thank you. Are they ridiculously overpriced? _
> 
> ** _Me: _ ** _ Oh, yeah. And you have to deal with this once a month? _
> 
> ** _Cher: _ ** _ The downfall of women: the prices of hygiene products. _
> 
> ** _Me: _ ** _ God. And yet the government refuses to give you equal pay. _
> 
> ** _Cher_ ** _ : Do you understand why some women are so pissed off all the time, now? _
> 
> ** _Me: _ ** _ I’m pissed off for you. This sucks. _

He put his phone away, and went to find Ned. He was standing in the candy aisle, humming as he examined the selection. Peter studied the ceiling for a moment. After what felt like five minutes, however, he cleared his throat, and said, “I thought you wanted to get a KitKat?” 

“Well, I _ did, _ but then I saw all the other options,” Ned answered, his head tilted. “Now I’m feeling indecisive.”

Peter let out a breath. “If you don’t pick within the next five seconds, I’m not buying it for you,” he said. 

Ned quickly reached out and pulled a Crunch bar off the shelf. “Fine, I picked,” he said. “We can go.”

“Great,” Peter said. “Come on, then.” 

He led the way to the counter, and set down the box. Ned followed his lead with the candy. The cashier smiled in amusement as she scanned the box. “For your girlfriend?” she asked. 

“Uhm…” Peter trailed off, and then let out a sigh. A lie was sometimes easier than the truth. “Yeah. She asked me to pick some up.”

“That’s sweet of you,” the cashier said. 

“Thanks,” Peter replied, “but it’s nothing. I’d do anything for her.”

“Aw,” the cashier said, and then she totaled the prices. “That’ll be twelve seventy three.”

Peter handed her thirteen dollars, and glanced at Ned. He noticed the look on his friend’s face, but the cashier passed him his change before he could say anything. “Have a nice evening,” she said, handing him the bag as well. 

“You too,” Peter said, and he walked away. Ned met him at the door, and Peter lifted his eyebrows. “Go ahead and say it.”

“Say what?” Ned queried. “That you’re in love with Cheri, and you should get married and have three children?” 

“Three?” Peter asked, lifting his eyebrow. “Why three?” 

“So you don’t have to pick who to name them after,” Ned answered. “One for me, one for Harry, and one for Mr. Stark.”

“I’m not naming my kids after you _ or _ Harry,” Peter told him with a snort. 

“What, why not?” Ned demanded. “Don’t you like us?” 

“Of course I do,” Peter said, “but you know that I want to name one after Uncle Ben.”

“Yeah, and?” Peter shook his head. “Middle names, Peter!” 

Peter pretended not to hear him.

* * *

“Thank you!” Cheri said, taking the box from him. “You’re the best, seriously. And you’re sure you don’t want me to pay you back?” 

“No, don’t worry about it,” Peter responded. “I bought Ned some candy, too, so.”

Cheri smiled, and pushed herself to her feet. Peter helped her up. “Thanks,” she said. “Be right back.”

She walked off, down the hall, and Peter sat back down on the couch, reaching for his textbooks again. Ned shuffled out into the front room after a minute, munching on his Crunch bar. 

“So,” he began. “Did you tell her?”

Peter looked up. “Tell her _ what?” _ he demanded. 

“That you’re going to name one of your children after me,” Ned responded. 

“Oh my God. _ Ned.” _

“Well, you gotta make sure it’s okay with the mother.”

“What are we talking about?” Cheri asked, coming back from the bathroom.

“Nothing,” Peter said, quickly. 

“Peter’s going to name one of his kids after me,” Ned said at the same time. 

Cheri looked at Peter, amused. “You are?” 

“No,” Peter replied, dryly. He looked down at his textbook again. “I only know the name of one child, and that’s Benjamin Anthony.” 

“That’s sweet,” Cheri said. “After your uncle?” 

“And Mr. Stark,” Peter confirmed. 

“What if you have a daughter?” she asked him. 

“Ah.” Peter shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d probably use ‘May’, but I guess it depends on what the mom wanted.” 

Ned grinned at him. Peter reminded himself to glue his door shut or something, later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I've never written this trope before now.


	34. He Is An Engineer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Tony have talks.

**June 14th, 2022 - Stark Tower - Broadway & W. 58th St., New York, NY, USA**

“Hey,” Peter greeted, shutting the door of Tony’s penthouse office behind him. “You wanted to talk to me about something?” 

Tony, who’d been looking out the window behind his desk, rotated around in his desk chair. “Yeah,” he said, and he stood up. “It shouldn’t take long.” He moved to stand in front of Peter, who lifted an eyebrow, a little confused. 

“I’m kind of worried,” he said, and Tony smiled a little. 

“Nah, just, uhm… we need to talk about… some Spider-Man stuff.” 

Peter frowned a little. “Why?” 

Tony sighed, crossing his arms. “I know you’ve been a little… y’know, frustrated, lately, with me involving myself in your escapades,” he said, carefully. “And it… I feel like we need to figure it out.” 

“Okay,” Peter replied, slowly. “Figure out what?” 

Tony studied him for a moment, before he looked down. “I… I’ve decided that, once you turn twenty-one, I’m not… going to be keeping as close an eye on you and the crime fighting aspect as I have been.”

Peter’s eyes widened a little. “Really?” he asked, and Tony nodded. “Wow. Okay. Uh… thanks, I think? It - I mean, I do appreciate that, but… why?” 

Tony sighed a little. “I guess it’s because you’re an adult,” he said, “and the only reason I _ was _ involved was because I worried that you’d get hurt, which, like, is not something that I could handle.” Peter lowered his gaze, understanding. 

“Right.”

“But, uh, you’re an adult, and you’re a superhero who knows what they’re doing, and it… I don’t know. It isn’t necessary for you to have me babysit you anymore.” Tony hesitated. “It really never was, but.” 

Peter glanced up again, smiling a bit. “I get it,” he said. “And, y’know, for a little while I appreciated knowing you were ready to step in, but I’m not… I’m not a kid anymore. I’m experienced.”

“I know,” Tony said. “And Manhattan… well. It’s Spider-Man’s city.” Peter nodded, and Tony nudged his shoulder with his fist. “But don’t be thinking that if I get an alert from your suit that you’ve been, like, horrifically wounded that I won’t be flying out there to help.”

Peter laughed a little. “Okay,” he said. 

“But I’m not going to track the suit, and I won’t be showing up to throw the final punch, or anything,” Tony continued. “You’ll be on your own.” Peter nodded, and Tony smiled, sliding his hands into his pockets. “You’re tough, kid, and you know what you’re doing, so I’m not worried about you, but I’m here to talk, if you need help or whatever.”

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter said. “Really. It - I mean, having your support all this time has really helped me be able to… y’know, become the type of hero that the city needs.” 

Tony shook his head. “That was all you, and you know it,” he said, quietly. “I just eased your way, when you’d let me.”

“And it helped a lot,” Peter told him. He glanced down again, sheepish. “Would it be… un-superhero like of me to give you a hug?” 

“No, I think it’d be very superhero like,” Tony replied. Peter immediately moved towards him, and Tony hugged him tight, grinning. “You know how great you are, right?” he prompted. 

“I guess so,” Peter said. He pulled back again. “Not all the time, though.”

Tony lifted an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” 

Peter let out a breath, and walked away a few steps, shrugging. “I just - I don’t know. Sometimes, I don’t think I’m super good at the normal person stuff.”

“Ah,” Tony said. “I see.” He considered for a moment, and then said, “Well, that’s something everyone needs to figure out on their own, but you know that if you need to talk about that sort of thing, I’m here for that, too.” 

“Thanks,” Peter said. He was silent for a moment, considering what would happen if he were to tell Tony about Cheri. There’d be some teasing, probably, and then some encouragement to just ask her out to, like, coffee or something. And then Peter would say that they’d _ been _ getting coffee, it was just that he could never convince himself to, like, hold her hand or anything while _ getting _ coffee. Tony would tease him some more, and eventually just tell him the same thing that Peter already knew; it was just something he had to do. 

He sighed, and looked at Tony. “I don’t think you can help me with this, though,” he said. “It’s something I need to figure out on my own.”

Tony studied him for a moment, before shrugging. “All right, if you say so.” He gestured. “Uh, other than that… I’m kind of… y’know. I said what I wanted to say. You should probably head back downstairs.”

Peter nodded in agreement. “Thanks, Mr. Stark,” he said, and then he exited the office, heading for the elevator so that he could get back down to R&D.

* * *

_ “Hola, Clave de Sol,” _Peter said, swinging the door to the apartment shut behind him. Cheri looked over the back of the couch, and grinned at him. 

“You looked that up, didn’t you?” she asked, and he nodded. 

“Yeah.” She laughed, and Peter walked over to the couch, leaning over the back of it. “What’re you doing here?”

“Hanging,” she replied with a shrug. “I figured I’d come see you guys before I head to Washington Heights for the next two weeks.” 

Peter raised his eyebrows. “You going to visit your _ abuela _ _?”_ he asked, and Cheri shook her head. 

“No, I’m apartment sitting,” she explained. “She’s going to Puerto Rico, to visit some family there.” 

“Ah.” Peter tilted his head. “And you didn’t want to go with her?” 

“Mm.” Cheri closed one eye. “I’ve been to Puerto Rico before, and it was cool, and beautiful, but… I don’t know, I decided I’d rather stay in the city this summer.”

“Huh.” Peter shrugged. “Okay.” He turned to head to his room, to drop off his bag. Cheri followed after him, clearly lacking anything else to do. She gazed around his room while he unpacked his laptop, setting it down on his desk. He then turned to face her, and she nodded towards his desk. 

“That’s a mess.”

“It’s organized chaos,” he corrected, primly. “I know where everything is. As such, it’s fine.”

“If you pay me, I’ll clean it for you,” she said, and Peter snorted. Her shoulders fell. “Yeah, should’ve expected that.” 

“Why do you need money so bad?” he asked, and she sighed. 

“Just trying to save some up, for gas and stuff. All of the loan money I take out is going towards... everything else.” She glanced at him. “Teachers don’t make a lot, y’know, so I need to think smart about how much I borrow.”

“Right,” Peter said. He suddenly wished he had agreed to pay her to clean his desk. “Well. Two more years isn't so bad.”

“It's two more years to accumulate even more debt,” Cheri said, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame. “It’s whatever. Hopefully I’ll get some money this summer for pet and apartment sitting. And, hopefully, nothing in my car breaks and forces me to fork over whatever I manage to save up.” 

“That something you have to worry about?” Peter asked, and she nodded. 

“Summer before freshman year, the air unit went out. I couldn’t afford to replace it, so I had to go without air conditioning _ and _ heat until the new year, when we got some money back from taxes.” 

Peter considered for a moment, toying with a pencil that had been sitting on his desk. “Y’know, if something_ does _ break, I’d probably be able to fix it for you,” he said, and Cheri looked at him, eyebrows raised. 

“Really?”

Peter made a face at her. “I _ am _ an engineer.”

“Yeah, a biomedical one,” she retorted, and he rolled his eyes. 

“An engineer knows a _ lot, _including cars,” he told her. “I’d be able to fix it for free; you’d probably just need to buy a part or whatever, if it was necessary. But, like, if your radiator starts to leak or your O2 sensors start acting up, I could take a look at them and tell you what needs to happen, before you spend money on, like, a mechanic.”

Cheri looked mildly impressed. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, smiling a bit. Her phone chirped in her pocket, and she pulled it out. After reading the message, she smiled, and looked up at Peter again. “Harry’s at Space Market. He wants to know if we want to meet him.”

“Sure,” Peter said. He double-checked his pockets to make sure he had his phone, wallet, and keys. He nodded to himself, and looked at her. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course I was going to get Tony in again, he's my fav.


	35. Adventures in Babysitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheri's getting paid to babysit, but she refuses to watch Miles Morales on her own.

**July 19th, 2022 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

Summer progressed. Cheri spent a lot of time at the boys’ apartment. The four of them embarked on quite a few summertime activities, not limited to water gun fights in the back lot behind the apartment building, and bowling nights every two weeks. She managed to beat Peter one time, much to his chagrin. Harry, who’d bet Ned that Cheri would beat Peter at _ least _ once, was awarded fifteen bucks for his trouble. Cheri immediately claimed five of it, arguing that she’d been the one to win him the money in the first place. 

Thankfully, it was not as hot during this particular summer as it had been during the last, and July especially was a lot calmer a month heat-wise than it had been. Ned once again suggested that they all go camping, to which Harry, Peter, and Cheri vehemently said “No!”, and not without reason. 

Still, even with all the fun that the four of them managed to have, Cheri spent quite a bit of her time searching for a source of income. Although she was regularly supplying Nick Fury with updates on Peter’s ongoing Spider-Man work, she had yet to see any compensation for spying on one of her best friends, and so she had to find money in other things.

She managed to pick up a couple of jobs pet-sitting for neighbors in her Brooklyn neighborhood. She also apartment-sat for her _ abuela, _ when she elected to return home to Puerto Rico for a two week period in June. She’d invited Cheri, originally, but Cheri had said that she’d rather stay in New York, to which her _ abuela _ had lifted her eyebrows and said, “What’s so interesting here in New York?” 

“Nothing,” Cheri had answered immediately, even though her thoughts had automatically drifted to her boys. _ Her boys. _ She smiled a bit, considering the phrase.

“Clearly it’s something,” Abuela had said, frowning a little. “Is it a boy? A girl?”

“What? No,” Cheri said, blinking and shaking her head. “Just… I want to stay in New York. I’ll apartment-sit for you, while you’re gone. Did you ask Máma if she wants to go?” 

“Yes,” Abuela said. “She is coming, and suggested I ask you myself, since she hasn’t had the chance to see you for much longer than two minutes recently.” 

Cheri glanced down at the top of the table in Abuela’s kitchen, avoiding the old woman’s eyes. “I’ve just been busy,” she said, quietly, and thankfully, Abuela had let the topic drop. 

Since then, she’d spent much of her time house sitting and pet sitting for various people, and, most recently, she’d been invited to babysit and apartment-sit in tandem for a couple that her mother had known for a long time. In fact, she’d actually babysat their kid once or twice when he was much younger, memories that Cheri still hated. 

As such, she’d asked if Harry was able to babysit with her, and the couple had agreed, because they knew Harry, too. When she’d run the idea by him, he’d immediately agreed, glad to have the chance to earn money for real, for once in his life. 

A few days before they were set to head to Brooklyn, she found herself at the Trio’s apartment, spooning some of her homemade churro ice cream into several bowls. Harry sat in the front room on his laptop, singing something that did not sound like actual music. 

She called to him, speaking up over his singing: “Hey, you’re still babysitting with me this weekend, right?” 

The sudden silence that followed the question was answer enough, and Cheri glanced upwards, already annoyed. She walked to the archway separating the kitchen from the living room, arms crossed, and frowned at her friend. “Harry?” 

“I forgot,” he said, hurrying to his feet. “I’m - I’m so sorry, but I - I completely forgot about it. I’m going to California on Friday with my dad for the United States Clean Energy conference, and I’ll be there until Monday.”

Cheri groaned, leaning against the arch. _ “Harry…” _

“It’s only one kid,” Harry said, “and it’s for two nights.”

“It’s _ Miles Morales,” _Cheri retorted. 

“The kid is nine.”

“He was _ five _when he took apart my straightening iron when my mom was babysitting him!” Cheri retorted. “He could’ve electrocuted himself! I can’t watch him on my own; he’s smarter than me.”

Peter stepped into the front room, typing something on his phone, and Harry gestured to him. “They’ll let you bring Peter instead,” he said. 

“Bring me where?” Peter asked, looking up. 

“That’s not a good idea, Harry,” Cheri said at the same time. 

“Sure it is. Peter can handle Miles.”

“Who’s Miles?” Peter was very confused, now. “What’s going on?” 

Cheri stared at Harry for a moment longer before sighing and glancing at Peter. “Harry and I were supposed to babysit for a couple in our old neighborhood this weekend, but he just told me that he’s not able to come with me. He’s trying to force the responsibility onto you instead.”

“Oh.” Peter glanced sideways at Harry, who lifted his eyebrows in response. Peter frowned at his friend, and looked back at Cheri. “I mean, I can, if you want me to. I like kids.” 

“This isn’t a kid,” Cheri said, crossing her arms. “He’s a demon.”

“Miles is _ not _ a demon,” Harry put in with a sigh. “You’re so dramatic, sometimes.” 

“You’ve never watched him on your own,” Cheri retorted. “You have no idea.” She looked at Peter. “I don’t think you want to put yourself through it.” 

Peter raised his shoulders in a shrug. “I mean, it sounds like you can’t do it yourself, so.” Cheri sighed a little, and then turned a scowl towards Harry, pointing at him. 

“You get to call and ask,” she said. “I hope you have to talk to Officer Davis.” 

Harry put up his hands. “I’ll call,” he said, and he glanced over at Peter as Cheri returned to the kitchen, mouthing _ Thank you. _

Peter shook his head, and followed Cheri to the kitchen, leaning against the arch himself and watching as she continued to dish out the ice cream she’d brought. 

“Who is this kid, exactly?” he asked after a moment. 

“Miles Morales,” Cheri replied. “He’s nine; my mom used to watch him sometimes, when he was younger. He’s been, like, doing quadratic equations since he was two.” 

Peter smiled a little. “Smart, then.”

“Frustratingly smart,” Cheri agreed with a shake of her head. “His parents are going on a trip this weekend, for their anniversary, and they asked Harry and I to watch him for them.” She turned and handed him one of the bowls. “Apparently, Harry can’t keep any commitments.”

“Well, don’t worry,” Peter said, straightening his shoulders. “I’ll be a better partner in babysitting than he ever would.” 

Cheri smiled. “I bet,” she agreed, and then she held out one of the bowls to him. He took it, bowing a little, and she laughed. “Stop it.”

“I’m just treating you with the proper respect, that comes with your creation of such a wondrous, creamy dish,” Peter said, grabbing a spoon for himself. 

“You’re a goof,” Cheri replied, and handed him a second bowl with a second spoon. “Take that to Harry, please and thank you. I’m gonna put the rest of this away for Ned, since he’s the one who asked for it.” 

“Maybe, but we all appreciate it!” Peter said over his shoulder as he walked into the front room. He considered dropping the bowl of ice cream directly into Harry’s lap, but thought better of it at the last second, and handed it to him like a normal person instead. Harry was on the phone, but he nodded, winking at Peter in a _ You’re welcome! _ sort of way. 

Peter pretended not to have seen this, and he also pretended not to see the way that Cheri’s shirt rode up a little in the back as she sat down on the edge of the coffee table a few minutes later. He’d done a good job of pretending that he had gotten over his attraction to her, but it had gotten harder and harder to ignore recently, and especially after that night on the roof, looking at the stars together and throwing pretzels at one another. 

Yeah, okay, it was hard to ignore the fact that he was most definitely still attracted to her, and very much wanted to take her on a date, and very much wanted to know what holding her hand was like, what cuddling with her would be like, what _ kissing _ her would be like. 

For the fuck of it, he tossed a piece of the cinnamony churro bits that were mixed in with the vanilla ice cream at her, and watched in utter amazement as she caught it in her mouth with seemingly no effort. She gave him the finger, and he grinned, looking down at the ice cream. 

_ How the fuck am I supposed to spend a weekend babysitting with her? _

* * *

Ned stuck his head into Harry’s room, frowning a little. Harry glanced up from the paperwork he was filling out, and lifted an eyebrow at Ned’s expression. 

“What?” he asked. 

“What’s this I hear about Peter and Cheri babysitting together this weekend because you’re busy, apparently?” Ned queried. 

Harry smirked, and looked down at his work again. “Pretty genius of me, right?” 

“You’ve never once gone to the Clean Energy Conference with your dad,” Ned said. “You’d _ never _ spend extra time with you dad.”

“I know.”

“Then what the fuck?” 

“I’m indirectly giving them a little nudge,” Harry explained. He glanced at Ned, eyes glittering fiendishly. “Cheri can’t stand sleeping alone in an unfamiliar place.”

“Okay…?”

“The apartment of the kid their babysitting only has one guest bedroom.”

Ned blinked a couple of times, before breaking out into a grin of his own. “Fantastic,” he said, and Harry nodded in agreement. 

**July 22nd, 2022 - Brooklyn, New York, NY, USA**

“So, the phone numbers are on the fridge, and Mrs. Contreras is downstairs if you need help with anything,” Rio said, darting between the kitchen and her bedroom, gathering a few last minute things. In the front room of the apartment, Cheri could hear Jefferson Davis on the phone with his precinct. Beside her, Peter was studying the nine-year-old that was seated at the kitchen table, playing a handheld video game. Cheri wasn’t sure what it was. 

Rio returned from the bedroom, holding a suitcase, and blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes. She looked at Cheri and Peter, smiling. “Thank you again for doing this,” she said, stopping next to Miles. “You’ll be good for Cheri and her friend Peter, right, _ mijo?” _

_ “Si,” _ Miles answered without looking up from his video game. “Love you.”

Rio sighed a little, and pressed a kiss to the top of Miles’ head. She then approached Cheri, and held out an envelope. “There’s three hundred dollars in there,” she said. “For food, emergencies, whatever.” 

“We’ll be fine,” Cheri assured. “Have a good time.”

“Hopefully we will,” Rio said, and then she exited the kitchen. “Jeff, let’s go.” 

“Right, coming,” the officer replied, poking his head into the kitchen. “Hey, Miles, be good, all right?” 

“Sure, Dad,” Miles said, glancing upwards only briefly. 

“I love you,” Jefferson told him. 

“Mhm,” Miles said, his attention back on the game. 

Jefferson shook his head, and then ducked back out of the kitchen. Cheri leaned in the archway, watching as the two adults exited the apartment, the door swinging closed behind them. She exhaled, once they were out of sight, and then turned back to the kitchen, surprised to see that Peter had sat down across from Miles at the table. 

“That’s a pretty nifty DS,” he said, gesturing to the device the kid held. “Where’d you find it?” 

“At the store,” Miles said, a crease forming between his brows. 

“They stopped selling DSes years ago,” Peter told him. 

Miles sighed a bit, very much like his mother had. “Yeah, so maybe I got it online, and fixed it,” he said, lifting his shoulders. 

“That’s impressive,” Peter said. “Do you like fixing stuff?” 

“Yeah,” Miles said. “I took apart the microwave once, though, and my dad got pretty mad.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Peter agreed, crossing his arms on top of the table. “I used to take apart my aunt’s hair-dryer. She hated that.” 

Miles glanced over at him, a small smile raising the corner of his mouth. “Really?” he asked, and Peter nodded. 

“I did it three times. After that, she had my uncle buy me a completely separate hair-dryer to take apart instead.” 

Miles laughed a little, and turned his gaze back to his game. Peter looked over at Cheri with a grin, and Cheri lifted her shoulders in response, kind of amazed. He’d actually gotten the kid to talk to him. He’d gotten the kid to _ laugh. _ That was insane. 

Since Peter seemed to have Miles handled, Cheri plucked the list of daily household tasks that Rio had written up off of the fridge, and read over it. Apparently, there was some laundry that needed to be done, but Cheri didn’t have to do it if she didn’t want to. Cheri was willing, though; there was an envelope with 300 dollars inside of it on the counter. She was going to earn that, while leaving Peter alone to deal with Miles in the process. 

In the kitchen, Peter glanced at the screen of the DS, smiling a bit to himself when he caught sight of the game that Miles was playing. “Mario Kart’s a classic,” he said. “Who’re you racing as?”

“Luigi,” Miles answered. “He’s the best one.”

“Yeah he is,” Peter agreed, his smile growing. He saw Cheri walk past the kitchen with an armful of laundry, and then he looked over at Miles again. “Have you lived in Brooklyn your whole life?” 

Miles shrugged. “I guess so. Pretty sure my dad was transferred to a precinct here right before I was born.” He briefly glanced at Peter once more. “What about you?” 

“I’m from Queens,” Peter replied, and when Miles snorted, he grinned again. “Yeah, go ahead, but listen, I have a couple of really good friends from Brooklyn, so.” 

“Yeah, Harry, right?” Miles asked, as the washing machine started up somewhere else in the apartment, and Peter nodded. “He was supposed to be here this weekend.”

“Plans changed,” Peter said, leaning back in his chair. “Sorry.” 

“That’s all right,” Miles said. He looked up fully, presumably, from the sounds that the game was making, because his race was over. “He’s not a lot of fun. Mom had to get rid of all the sugar in the apartment whenever he was coming over.” 

Peter let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, that is one issue about hanging with him,” he said, “but it isn’t Harry’s fault.”

“I know,” Miles sighed, and he looked at the DS again, thumbs tapping away as he selected a new track. “Still.”

Cheri walked back into the kitchen, then, and met Peter’s eyes. He offered her a thumb’s up, and her shoulders relaxed, a little. 

“Hey, kid,” she started, heading over to the table and sitting down in a chair of her own. “Been a minute.”

Miles shrugged again. “Guess so.” He looked over at her, amused. “I don’t have any plans to burn down the apartment, in case you were worried.”

“No,” Cheri said, frowning a little. “I wasn’t.”

Miles shook his head, still grinning, and then glanced between the two of them. “So, wait, are you two, like, dating or whatever?” he asked. 

“No,” Peter said, blinking. “What, uh, what made you think that?” 

“I was just asking,” Miles said, offering him a wary expression. “I guess it makes sense, though; Mom and Dad probably wouldn’t have let you both over if you were.” He looked at Cheri. “What about Harry?”

She shook her head. “Gave that a shot once,” she said. “Never again.” 

“Probably a good idea.” Miles studied both of them for a second, and then looked back at his game. “Have you guys been friends for a long time?”

“Almost two years,” Cheri said. She glanced at Peter, and smiled a little. “He’s cool.”

Peter met her gaze for a moment, but before he could read into the expression too much, she turned away again, back to Miles. “Do you want any of the food your mom left for us, or would you prefer we just gorged ourselves on pizza the next two days?” she asked him. 

“I’d rather have pizza,” Miles said after a moment. 

“Great,” Cheri said, standing. “Then that’ll be the plan.” She exited the kitchen again, and Miles looked sideways at Peter, watching him watch her go. After a moment, he grinned to himself. 

“You like her!” 

Peter jumped, and looked hurriedly over at the kid. “Shh!” he hissed, eyes darting to the archway that Cheri had gone through. “Not so loud.” Miles merely continued to smirk at him, and Peter let out a breath of air. “Yeah, I like her, so what?” he asked 

“Do something about it,” Miles suggested, and Peter shook his head. 

“No.”

“Come on, man,” Miles said. “I’m nine, and even I can tell that she likes you, too.” He gestured with his head, in indication of Cheri. “You’ve known her for two years. I think you could probably take the next step.”

Peter exhaled a breath. “It’s been two years,” he agreed, “and I don’t see any reason to mess that up.”

“But you won’t,” Miles said, and Peter shook his head. The kid blew out a raspberry, and looked down at his game again. “Whatever, dude. Be brave. You _ could _have everything.” 

Peter turned away after a moment, studying the different magnets and pieces of Miles’s schoolwork that covered the fridge. _ Be brave. You could have everything. _

It wasn’t even a matter of convincing himself that was true, because he knew it was. It was a matter of actually _ being brave. _

Even with superpowers, he found that to be the most difficult part of it all. Being brave enough to do something about it. 

Later on that evening, maybe an hour after Miles had finally admitted that it was past his bedtime, and he’d willingly headed to his room, Cheri shut off the TV. She leaned back against the couch cushions, sighing outwards, and glanced over at Peter. 

“Thank you, for doing this with me,” she said, and he looked at her. 

“Oh, yeah, it’s not a big deal,” he said, shaking his head. “I mean. He’s a cool kid.”

Cheri smiled a bit. “I should’ve known you’d feel that way.” She stretched a little, and then stood. “I’m gonna go get changed, I think. You wanna take the guest room?” 

“Are you really asking me that question?” Peter asked, lifting an eyebrow. “You know I’m too chivalrous to make you sleep on the couch.”

Cheri laughed. “That _ is _ chivalrous of you,” she said, “but -”

“Cher, I’ll take the couch,” Peter told her. “Not a big deal.”

“All right, if you’re sure,” Cheri said after a moment. “But uh.” She let out a breath. “I mean. If you get uncomfortable out here, the bed in the guest room is kinda huge, so.” 

Peter’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh.” He swallowed against his dry throat, and tried for a joke: “You asking me to sleep with you?” 

Thankfully, it landed. She grinned at him, and then lifted her shoulders. “If you want. It’s not really sleeping with me; there’d be, like, a football field length of bed between us. Which is why I’m offering.” Peter stared at her, too stunned to come up with something else that was witty. After a moment, she turned. “Well. _ I’m _ heading in there, so. If you change your mind.” She gestured. “If not, though, there’s, like, sheets and stuff in the cabinet by the laundry machines.” 

“Okay,” he managed, and she nodded, turning and heading in the direction of the guest room. He did not hear the door close behind her. Peter turned his gaze towards the floor, blinking dumbly down at it. Had that conversation really just happened, or had he imagined it? Had he finally gone insane, driven there by his years long desire to be with Cheri? 

“Fuck,” he breathed, and shook his head to himself. Even if he hadn’t imagined it, it wasn’t a good idea, was it? He couldn’t justify sharing a bed with her, even if it was as big as she said. Not with the way he felt about her, and his lack of knowing if she felt the same about him. 

But. She’d offered. So maybe there was something more to it. Maybe she was afraid of sleeping alone? That wasn’t a far reach, was it? 

“Fuck,” he said again, a little louder, and he stood up, heading towards the guest room. He passed the bathroom on the way, and saw the light turned on inside, the door closed. Cheri was probably in there, getting changed and brushing her teeth. Peter exhaled a breath, and sank down onto the edge of the bed, which really _ was _ massive. With how little he moved while he slept, it was not unreasonable to think that it would almost be like sleeping alone. 

He heard the bathroom door open, the light flicking off, and listened as Cheri walked down the hall to the guest room. She paused in the doorway when she saw him. 

“Hey,” she said. Did she sound _ relieved? _“Change your mind that fast?”

Peter managed a smile, and gestured to the bed. “It is big,” he said, and she nodded. He stood up. “But uh… no funny business, ma’am.”

“No funny business,” she agreed, grinning back. “The bathroom’s open.” 

“Yep, thanks,” Peter said. “I’ll be back in a second.”

She nodded, and moved out of the way of the door. Peter retrieved his backpack on the way to the bathroom, and then headed into it, closing the door behind him. He flipped the light on, and caught his reflection in the mirror for a moment. Fuck, was he really that flushed? 

He splashed some cold water onto his face before getting changed, and then again after brushing his teeth. He shoved his other clothes back into his bag, blew out a breath, and returned to the guest room. 

Cheri had scooted under the covers already, and was studying her phone. She glanced up at his entrance, however, and Peter lifted his eyebrow. 

“You know, you really shouldn’t look at a screen so close to going to bed,” he told her, setting his backpack down on the ground. “It’ll keep you awake.”

She scoffed. “Right.” All the same, she set her phone down on the bedside table, and Peter did the same with his own, on the opposite side. He glanced over at her again, and Cheri shifted. “I’m sorry if you think this is weird,” she said, quietly. “And if, like, you’re super uncomfortable, you really don’t have to sleep in here.” She looked down. “I just… sometimes I get nightmares when I sleep in an unfamiliar place, and it helps to know that someone I trust is close by.”

Peter’s shoulders fell. _ I knew it. _ “It’s not a problem,” he said. “Really.”

“Okay, cool,” Cheri said. There was a moment of silence, and then she gestured to him. “Just, you’re kind of standing there like you’re afraid to actually get into the bed, so.” 

“Nope, no,” Peter said quickly. He flipped back the blanket on his side, and then scooted onto the mattress. Even moving inwards about five inches, which put him safely away from the edge, he was still a solid two feet away from her. He forced himself to relax. “See? Totally cool.”

“Okay,” Cheri said again. “I”m gonna turn off the light, now.”

“Yep,” Peter agreed, adjusting a little so that he was actually laying down. He heard Cheri lean over, and then the room was dark. He listened as she settled down on her own side of the bed. 

“Night, Queens,” she said after a moment. 

“Good night,” he replied, staring into the darkness. She flipped onto her side, hopefully facing away from him, and that was that. 

He wasn’t sure how much time passed, only that he definitely managed to fall asleep at some point, even after worrying that he’d somehow manage to scoot his away across the bed and intrude upon her personal space in the night. When he was woken up by his senses spiking maybe two seconds before Cheri jerked upright on the other side of the bed, he was still where he’d been laying. 

Peter rolled over, his eyes easily picking out Cheri in the darkness. He could hear her breathing rapidly, and thought he could feel her shaking. 

“Cheri?” he asked, quietly, and listened as she inhaled, slowly. 

“Sorry,” she said. “Nightmare.” 

Peter sat up himself. “Do you need to talk about it?” 

“No, I already can’t really remember it,” she admitted, softly. “Sorry if I woke you.”

She had, but not because she herself had woken up. “It’s all right,” Peter said. “I was sort of already awake.” He could see her turn in his direction in the darkness, and was surprised to see her reach out, a little, as though searching for contact. 

He silently reached out with his own hand, and brushed his fingers against hers. “You’re all right?” he questioned. 

“Yeah,” she whispered after a moment, during which she’d looped her pinkie finger around his. She withdrew her hand. “Thanks.” 

“Sure,” Peter replied, gently. He watched her settle back down, and did the same after a moment. A few more seconds passed, and then he heard her shift closer to the middle of the bed. If he did the same after a moment’s hesitation, well, they didn’t talk about it in the morning, or about the fact that Cheri was laying on his arm, using it as a pillow. 

Instead, Cheri made Miles a bowl of cereal, and then they walked with him down to the community rec center nearby, so that he could hang out with some friends. They watched him play basketball from a bench on the sidelines without really talking. 

After a while, though, Cheri let out a quiet breath, and glanced at Peter. “I’m sorry about last night,” she said. 

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said. 

“I know, but I said that it wouldn’t be weird because of the size of the bed, and then I immediately made it weird,” she told him. 

“Cher, it wasn’t weird,” Peter assured. “Seriously. I think I actually slept better, too.” The ball bounced towards them, and Peter tossed it back to the kid that ran over to grab it. He then looked at her. “You don’t have to worry, okay?” 

She studied him for a moment before smiling a little. “All right,” she said. “Uh. But maybe we don’t mention it to Ned and Harry.”

“Yeah, definitely not,” Peter agreed immediately. “We’d never hear the end of it.”

Cheri let out a laugh, and then called, “Hey, Miles, I think it’s time for lunch, kid.”

“Ten minutes,” he called back, and then darted up the court, catching a pass that was tossed to him and going for the hoop. He jumped up and threw the ball; it bounced off the rim. 

“So… are you serious, about having kids?” Cheri asked, and Peter glanced over at her. She was still watching the game; there was a mix of girls and boys on the court, which was good to see. “Just, I know you have a name for a boy, so.”

“I mean, I’d like to have kids someday,” Peter replied. “But I’ve never been in a relationship that lasted longer than a few months, so it… y’know, I’ve never really put serious thought into it, I guess.” 

She smiled. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” she said. “I think if I were to have kids, I’d want two. That might come from me being an only child, but with two, they have each other, right?” 

“Two makes sense,” Peter agreed. “They have each other, and there’s, like, no awkward middle child.”

“You’re definitely the awkward middle child, even though you don’t have any siblings,” Cheri told him. Peter made a face in response, and she laughed. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. A little.”

Peter rolled his eyes, and then studied the ground for a moment. “Are - I mean. Do you know where your nightmares come from?” he asked, quietly, and Cheri did not respond for a long moment. “We don’t need to talk about it, I just… I’m curious, I guess.”

“It’s fine,” Cheri said. “Uh. I don’t know, really. I guess it’s… maybe it has something to do with… a fear of being alone? I don’t know. They don’t get really bad unless I’m in a strange place. It’s been that way for a long time.” 

“Huh.” Peter glanced over at her. “Have you ever talked about it with anyone, like, professional?” 

“No,” she replied. “I’m not in a lot of new places, so it… it’s not really a problem.” She looked at him, smiling a little, still. “And I'm usually with someone, which helps.”

“Right. Well, uh, it’s just one more night, so.” 

“Right,” Cheri said, and she turned back to the basketball game. “Miles!” 

“I’m not hungry yet!” the kid retorted, shooting another basket. The ball went in, this time. 

Cheri sighed a little to herself, crossing her arms. “I changed my mind,” she said. “I don’t want any kids.”

Peter smiled in response. “I think you’d be a great mom,” he told her. Cheri glanced over at him, her dimples present on both cheeks. 

“Thanks.” She nudged him with her elbow. “And I bet you’ll be an awesome dad.” She reached down, and tugged her bag up onto her lap, pulling out a box of saltines. “For now, since the kid’s being stubborn, we can share these.”

“Nutritious,” Peter said, amused, but he took a cracker from the package, and returned his attention to the game. Miles had the ball again, and was dribbling it down the court. A kid from the other team cornered him, and Miles tossed the ball around him to a girl on his team instead. She took off with it, Miles and the kid guarding him chasing after her. 

“Did you play sports?” Cheri asked, and Peter actually laughed. 

“No,” he said. “It - I’m not really a sports guy, in case you haven’t noticed in the two years we’ve known one another.” 

She grinned. “I think you could’ve played something,” she said. “I mean, you’re fit enough.” 

Peter’s smile faded. “I wasn’t always,” he said, quietly. 

Thankfully, Cheri did not say anything in response to that, instead pulling out another cracker. Peter did the same, when she held the sleeve out to him. 

Soon enough, Miles wandered over to them, panting. Cheri easily passed him the water bottle she’d brought, and once he’d chugged down a quarter of it, he reached for the crackers. 

“Lunch?” Cheri suggested, smiling, and the kid nodded. “All right, c’mon, boys.”

They passed the day in Brooklyn, which Peter would never tell anyone from Queens that he had done. By the time night fell, Miles was worn out, which, from Cheri’s expression, Peter could see had been her goal. Miles headed to bed without argument when he was supposed to, leaving Cheri and Peter alone, just like the night before. 

“It’s, like, nine,” Peter said. “Should we watch a movie or something?” 

Cheri looked over at him, head lolling against the back of the couch. “Seriously? You’re not tired?”

Peter blinked, and glanced away. “Uh. I guess a little,” he said. “It was a pretty long day.” 

“Yeah.” Cheri sighed a little. “But I guess if you don’t want to go to bed yet, we could watch a movie, sure.”

“I just feel like we’ll feel really old if we go to sleep now,” Peter said, and Cheri chortled. 

“What’s wrong with feeling old?” 

“... the fact that we aren’t?” 

“Goof,” Cheri said, grinning, and she groaned, sitting up. “All right. Let’s watch a movie, then.” She stood. “You want popcorn?” 

“Nah,” Peter said, reaching for the TV remote. 

“All right. I’m gonna get a drink, though,” Cheri said, and she ducked into the kitchen. Peter flipped the TV on, feeling obscenely domestic. He liked it, however. 

_ Imagine if this was how it was every weekend, _ he thought to himself, flipping through channels without really seeing what was on. _ You and Cheri, together. _

He closed his eyes for a moment, pushing the thought away. Miles’s words from the night before merely took its place. _ Be brave. You could have everything. _

_ Be brave. _

Peter inhaled, and opened his eyes again. “Be brave,” he repeated out loud, quietly. 

“What’d you say?” Cheri asked, walking back into the room, holding a cup. Peter glanced at her, and she tilted her head in question, sitting down. “Pete?” 

“Nothing,” he said, managing a smile. “What do you want to watch?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mostly wrote this because I wanted a "Sharing A Bed" chapter and boy I got it!


	36. The City On Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New scene, next block.

**August 10th, 2022 - Karaoke Cave - 11 E 13th St., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“EVERYBODY!” Harry had climbed up onto the bar, a microphone in hand. He was swaying, a little, having downed a drink-and-a-half already, even though they’d only been at the bar for maybe an hour. Still, both Peter and Cheri had been making sure to keep a steady flow of water going into him at the same time, to avoid anything terrible. That didn’t stop Harry from being tipsy, however, which, so long as he didn’t fall off the bar, was fine. 

“My best friend, Peter Benjamin Parker -” he continued, and gestured grandly towards where Peter was sitting at a table in the corner of the room with the other members of their group, “- turns twenty-one today!” 

A chorus of cheers rang up from everyone in the bar, not just his friends, and Peter lifted a hand, aware of the blush that had appeared on the back of his neck and in his cheeks. God, he hated being the center of attention. Harry knew that, of course, and yet. 

“So, if you would please assist me in trying to convince him to be the one to take the first shot at karaoke this evening, I’d be much obliged, and very willing to buy the whole room a round,” Harry said. 

“Dammit,” Peter said quietly, under his breath, as the room started to chant, following Harry’s lead. 

“Peter! Peter! Peter!” 

Being the first person to take the mic for karaoke was always the _ worst. _ You set the whole mood for the rest of the night with the way you decided to sing your song. You could make a huge joke out of it, and give everyone else the breathing room to do the same. You could try you best, and inevitably fuck up horribly because of how drunk off your ass you were, not that anyone else would give a shit because they were _ also _ drunk off their asses. Or, and this was the worst one, you’d do _ bad, _ and thus would follow an evening of even _ worse _ renditions of songs, as everyone got more and more wasted. 

Peter did _ not _ want to be the one to set the mood. But, considering the entire bar was chanting his name, it seemed like he didn’t have a choice. And, after all, it was his twenty-first birthday. He could be a good sport. Besides, Harry had promised everyone a free round if he got up and sang; it wasn’t like he could disappoint them all. 

So, with a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet. A chorus of whoops went up around the bar as he made his way towards the stage against one wall. Harry hollered into the microphone like a monkey, and hopped down from the bar counter, pushing his way through the crowd to get to Peter’s side. 

“What’re you gonna sing?” he asked, leaning closer to where Peter was peering through the songbook which had, appropriately, over 900 tunes to choose from. 

“I dunno,” he sighed, poking through the pages. He glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of where Cheri was sitting with Ned and MJ at the table. She wasn’t drinking, and they’d managed to get her into the bar without being ID’d, which was probably the best part of his whole night. He was glad she was there; having her miss _ another _ birthday of his would’ve sucked. 

Oddly, too, it wasn’t awkward to have both her and MJ in the same room. Although Peter had a history with MJ, it wasn’t one that gave him pause, or made him reconsider his choice of introducing her to the girl he was currently infatuated with. Really, he was excited to learn what MJ’s opinion of Cheri was, once the night was over. She was a good judge of character, not that Peter needed her to judge _ Cheri’s _ character, but…

He valued her opinion. She was one of his good friends, and he wanted to know what she thought of the girl he wanted to be with. 

“This one!” Harry announced, grandly, startling Peter. He turned back to the songbook, and frowned at the song that Harry was pointing to. 

“No.”

“C’mon!” Harry said. He tugged on Peter’s arm. “It’s perfect.”

“I don’t think any of us are drunk enough for me to sing _ this,” _ Peter told him. “Especially not the person who’ll probably get the most _ meaning _ out of it, Harry!” 

“That’s the _ point,” _Harry said, emphasizing the final ‘t’ sound. Peter groaned, a little, and Harry ushered him up onto the stage, handing him the microphone. He then jogged towards the DJ, and told him the song that he’d chosen for Peter. The DJ nodded, and tapped at his laptop a few times. Peter’s heart thudded uncomfortably in his chest as the music began. 

“Yeah, go Peter!” Ned called, cupping his hands over his mouth. MJ offered him two thumbs up, and Cheri smiled a bit. Harry joined the three of them at their table, and wolf-whistled. 

Peter let out a breath, praying that the next three minutes would not feel as though they’d taken an eternity, and he started to sing along to the song: 

_ “Everybody knows she’s a perfect ten _ _  
_ _ And I’m hanging on tight ‘til the whole thing ends _ _  
_ _ ‘Cause New York sky don’t get much brighter _ _  
_ _ She sets, she sets the city on fire _

_ “Somebody told me _ _  
_ _ If I’m not careful, well, this one’s gonna roll me _ _  
_ _ Got my hands full, and this one’s gonna own me _ _  
_ _ And control me _ _  
_ _ I’m so mystified _

_ “She caught the last train, last night _ _  
_ _ Left another note sayin’ _ _  
_ _ “See you next time, miss me if you don’t _ _  
_ _ “You look good in your bed, ‘til we meet again.” _ _  
_ _ You went through my head and nobody told me so _

_ “Everybody knows she’s a perfect ten _ _  
_ _ And I’m hanging on tight ‘til the whole thing ends _ _  
_ _ ‘Cause New York sky don’t get much brighter _ _  
_ _ She sets, she sets the city on fire.” _

Fuck him if he wasn’t getting into it. Rather than stand awkwardly in one place on the stage while he sang, he moved around, spinning with the lyrics and crouching down a little to touch the hands of the people that had flocked the edge of the stage, like they were at a concert or something. It was actually kind of fun. Still, all the while, he was very much aware that he was indirectly singing _ at _ Cheri. Whether or not she noticed, though, he couldn’t tell. 

_ “New scene, next block _ _  
_ _ She’ll be jaywalking right across while the cops talk _ _  
_ _ Make you feel like a boss when your eyes lock _ _  
_ _ And you can’t stop staring endlessly _

_ “She got the whole thing figured out _ _  
_ _ Hits me where it hurts _ _  
_ _ And I know I might be swinging at a curve _ _  
_ _ I don’t mind it, though, _ _  
_ _ When the lights are low, she can hit the notes _ _  
_ _ Wearing my t-shirt _

_ “Everybody knows she’s a perfect ten _ _  
_ _ And I’m hanging on tight ‘til the whole thing ends _ _  
_ _ ‘Cause New York sky don’t get much brighter _ _  
_ _ She sets, she sets the city on fire _

_ “She sets the city on fire _ _  
_ _ Burns like a million lighters _ _  
_ _ I’m going up, I couldn’t get much higher _ _  
_ _ She sets, she sets the city on fire.” _

The music shifted to the bridge (this was a term he’d learned from Cheri), and appropriately, the whole mood in the bar shifted, too. Everyone was watching him, eyes wide, bright, amused and entranced by the performance. Peter, though, was looking past them, at a single person within the audience, and she was staring right back, the corner of her mouth raised.

_ “But I don’t know if I’m chasing ghosts _ _  
_ _ I put my hand in the flame of a flickering lighter _ _  
_ _ Again and again, I was lucky just to find her _

_ “Well, I don’t know if I’m chasing ghosts _ _  
_ _ I put my hand in the flame of a flickering lighter _ _  
_ _ Again and again, I was lucky -” _

The song kicked back in, and the moment passed as everyone went nuts, actually joining him for the final chorus. Peter stepped back from the edge of the stage, and addressed the wide group of people as he kept singing, leading them:

_ “Everybody knows she’s a perfect ten _ _  
_ _ And I’m hanging on tight ‘til the whole thing ends _ _  
_ _ ‘Cause New York sky don’t get much brighter _ _  
_ _ She sets, she sets the city on fire _

_ “She sets the city on fire _ _  
_ _ Burns like a million lighters _ _  
_ _ I’m going up, I couldn’t get much higher _ _  
_ _ She sets, she sets the city on fire.” _

Everybody quieted down again, leaving Peter to finish the song on his own, and leaving him to look at Cheri once more. 

_ “I’m going up, I couldn’t get much higher _  
_ She sets, she sets the city on _ _  
Fire.”_

Cheers and applause broke out throughout the bar, and Peter lowered the mic, unable to keep from smiling. He took a small bow, and shuffled off the stage again, feeling ridiculously overheated after the adventure _ that _ had been. Harry hurried to meet him, after he’d returned the mic to the DJ, and slung an arm around his shoulders. 

“Hell yeah, dude!” he said. “That was _ rad.” _

“I feel like a moron,” Peter admitted. “Did she -?”

“Nothin’,” Harry said, and Peter exhaled. “But, hey, maybe she wants to say it to you.”

He led Peter over to the table. Ned reached across it, palm up, and Peter had to grin, slapping his hand. 

“You kicked ass,” Ned told him. 

“It was pretty fuckin’ good,” MJ agreed, smirking. “Didn’t know you were a DeGraw fan, Parker.”

“He’s got some good songs,” Peter said with a shrug. 

“And you apparently know them super well,” Cheri put in. He glanced at her, and saw she was grinning, eyes shining. “That was awesome, Pete. Really proud of you.”

“Probably helps that I had some liquid courage,” Peter fibbed, and reached for one of the newly filled shot glasses that Harry had carried over to the table from the bar. 

Someone new had taken up the mic, and the beginnings of the song they’d chosen started to play. The bar let out a collective groan at the easily recognizable music, and Peter smiled into his drink. _ Don’t Stop Believing _ always had to come up, even though the collective _ hated _ it. There would be similar song choices to follow, no doubt. 

“Peter, can we chat?” MJ queried, at some point in the evening, when Ned had ducked into the bathroom, and Harry had drifted off to another table to flirt with the cute girls and guy that sat there. 

Peter glanced at Cheri again, who shrugged, tilting her head a bit. “I’m all right,” she said, lifting her glass of lemonade. “Go ahead.”

Peter nodded, and turned back to MJ, who led him out of the bar proper to a more secluded area of the lounge. A couple other people were there, but none of them even glanced their way as MJ sank down onto one of the couches, and gestured for Peter to sit, too. He did so, and looked at her, curious, but also a little concerned. 

“What’s -?”

“Any reason you haven’t told that girl you’re in love with her, yet?” MJ asked, eyeing him. 

Peter blinked, and then cleared his throat, crossing his arms. “Well. I wouldn’t say I’m in love with her,” he began, and ignored MJ’s snort. “But I haven’t… I haven’t told her that I’d like to go on a date with her, yet, because I only just very recently managed to convince myself that pretending _ not _ to like her and want to date her sucked and was doing nothing but make me sad.”

MJ continued to study him. “You know that she’s into you, too, right?” she asked, and Peter shrugged. “I mean. I don’t know if you were paying attention to her during your song -”

“I was paying attention,” Peter said, quietly. 

MJ leaned back against the wall. “So?”

“So… so nothing,” Peter admitted. “I just haven’t managed to ask her out yet, all right?”

MJ sighed. “Is this about…” She trailed off, and then made a gesture with a flick of her wrist that was pretty indicative of what she meant. Peter hesitated a moment. 

“I mean… not… not completely,” he said. “It’s part of it, but a lot of it just has to do with me not… not wanting to hurt our friendship, if a relationship doesn’t work out for us. You know?”

“Did that happen to us?” MJ asked, and he shook his head. “Then what’re you so scared of? She’s closer to you than I am, I think. I doubt you’d wreck your friendship, but I doubt even less that a relationship between the two of you would end badly.”

Peter turned away, and MJ sighed. “Peter, we might not be as close as we were, once, but I still know you,” she said. “And I can tell that you really, _ really _ like this girl, and it’s killing you that you haven’t done anything about it. So, for fuck’s sake, grow a pair, and ask her on a date. You’re a goddamn superhero; asking a girl out should _ not _ be a scary task.”

“I know,” Peter murmured. 

“Okay,” MJ said. She reached over and nudged his shoulder with her fist. “Just fucking do it, dude. Don’t make her make the first move, like you made me.”

Peter let out a laugh. “I did not make you make the first move,” he said, and MJ lifted her eyebrow. He rolled his eyes. “It was a joint effort.”

“Whatever,” she said, and then she stood up. “Let’s go back in there. I want to see you do it.”

“What? Why?” Peter asked, blanching. 

“To make sure it actually fuckin’ happens in our lifetime,” MJ said, shortly. She clicked her tongue, and gestured with her head. “Come on.”

Peter groaned, under his breath, and managed to climb to his feet. He trudged back into the bar itself, MJ behind him. They returned to their table, only to find that Cheri was standing up from her chair, sliding her bag over her shoulder. 

“Are you leaving?” Peter asked, surprised, and she glanced over at him, smiling sadly and nodding. 

“Yeah,” she said. “I need to get home; I told my mom I wouldn’t be out past two.” She looked at MJ. “It was really nice to meet you.”

“You too,” MJ said after a moment. “Uh, maybe Peter could walk you out?” 

“Wh -?” He coughed, slightly, when MJ nudged him sharply in the side with her elbow, and amended his sentence. “Yeah, I could do that, if you wanted me to.”

“Thanks, Queens,” Cheri said, “but I’ll be okay. Keep having a good time.” She walked around the table, and paused next to him, leaning up on her toes, her hand resting on his arm. She pressed a light kiss to his cheek, and fell back flat on her feet, meeting his eyes. “Happy birthday.”

He turned to watch her leave the bar, threading her way through the crowd until she disappeared from sight. He closed his eyes, chest burning with an unidentifiable pain. 

MJ noticed his expression, and she said, “It’s called despair, I think.”

“Right, thanks,” Peter said, flatly, and he sank down into a chair, hanging his head in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is the song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j8idTIw8cmM) that Peter sings. Gavin DeGraw manages to work his way into at least one of my FanFic universes every three years or so. 
> 
> Can you tell we're getting close to The Thing?? Those who've read "It Gets Worse!: The Forgotten Prince" and have been reading "Better All The Time" know! They know the exact date, in fact!
> 
> (This is a plug to try and get everyone who's reading this but not the other two stories in the universe for some reason to read the other two stories in the universe as well and also to leave their kudos and comments over there.)
> 
> (Also I really do love Harold T. Osborn with my whole heart and would do anything for him.)


	37. Zihuatanejo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It™ happens.

**August 17th, 2022 - 71 2nd Ave,. Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“All right,” Peter said, sighing and tossing the textbook that he had open in front of him off to the side. “This sucks. Let’s do something.”

Cheri looked up from her own work with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t you need to get that done before the semester starts?” she asked, and Peter shrugged. 

“I have time, and I’m tired of looking at it. If I have to see another quote from Newton, I might rip the textbook to shreds, and right now, I can’t really afford that.” He gestured. “Gimme.”

Cheri passed over his laptop, which sat closer to her on the coffee table in the main room of the Trio’s apartment. Peter took it, folding his legs beneath him on the couch, and typed at the keyboard for a minute without speaking. Cheri watched, somewhere between amused and affectionate. That feeling was becoming a lot more frequent with her, when it came to Peter, she’d noticed. 

They hadn’t talked about the birthday party, or Peter’s song. It was almost like it hadn’t happened. Neither knew what to think about that. Cheri thought she should mention it, but considering Peter had been the one to sing the damn thing, she wondered if he was the one who wanted to bring it up. Peter was waiting for Cheri to make some sort of indication that she’d understood what the song had meant, and to let him know she’d realized he was singing it to her. 

The whole situation sucked, but at least they weren’t letting it make things weird. Hence the reason they were still hanging out despite the tension they were both ignoring. 

“Oh, shit!” Peter said, and Cheri lifted an eyebrow. 

“I’m sure whatever you’ve discovered is groundbreaking,” she said. 

“Hell yeah it is,” Peter said, shooting her a grin. “You know how The Oracle shows those movies on weird nights of the week that are kind of, like, lacking in movie-goers, that are played to try and attract more people?” Cheri nodded. “Tonight’s movie is _ Shawshank.” _

“No the fuck it is not!” Cheri said, immediately more excited. She tugged at Peter’s laptop, so that she could see the screen as well, and bounced happily when she saw that he hadn’t been kidding. “We have to go, right?” 

“Yeah, duh!” Peter said. He closed the laptop and set it back down on the coffee table. “It starts in, like, fifteen minutes, though, so -”

“We’ll break some laws,” Cheri said dismissively, tugging her shoes on. “Hurry!” 

Peter went to put his own shoes on, and Cheri met him at the apartment door, her car keys swinging from her finger. She tapped her foot impatiently as she watched him tie the laces of his Converse. “Could you _ be _ any slower?’ she demanded when he finally stood up again, patting his pockets to make sure he had his wallet and phone. 

“Yes, actually,” he retorted, following her out of the apartment and locking the door behind him, “but I won’t prove it to you, since we’re in a hurry.”

They practically dove down the steps of the apartment building, and raced to where Cheri’s Honda was parked. Peter settled into the passenger seat, tugging on his seat belt while Cheri turned the car on. He didn’t even have the belt fastened before she was driving away from the building and in the direction of The Oracle Theater. 

She did break quite a few laws on the way, mostly when it came to speed limits, but Peter did not say anything, and kept a sharp eye out for police vehicles. Thankfully, they were not pulled over, which had to be a miracle from some sort of divinity. Cheri shoved some change into a parking meter as Peter raced up to the nearest ticket window, to buy two for _ Shawshank Redemption. _ The teller eyed them both warily as he printed their tickets, and slid them through the gap in the window. Peter snatched them up, handing one to Cheri, and they ducked into the theater itself. 

“No time for popcorn, we can come out during a boring part,” Cheri said, breathlessly, and Peter nodded in agreement. They dashed to the ticket taker, who pointed them down the left side hall. “Number 8,” she said, a look of boredom on her face. 

They hurried towards theater 8, and then scampered up the stairs towards the row third from the back of the room. Cheri stumbled on the way up the stairs, giggling wildly, and Peter reached down to help her to her feet with a grin of his own. Adrenaline always made her giggle-y, he’d noticed. 

They plopped down heavily into two seats near the center of the row. The theater itself was empty, aside from the two of them, and a couple of older people who were sitting closer to the screen. They had the back half of the theater to themselves, and the obligatory trailers were just starting to play. 

“Whew,” Peter breathed, speaking quietly. “I can’t believe we made it!”

“I can,” Cheri said, and she tossed her hair. “Who’s the boss of driving illegally while still being legal enough not to attract attention? It’s me, what’s up.”

Peter laughed, and made a show of bowing to her, hands raised. “You are the boss,” he said. “I could probably go get us popcorn, if you want.”

“Uh, yeah, here -” Cheri started to reach for money, but Peter shook his head, slipping past her and out of the row, without letting her protest. 

Because The Oracle was mostly empty, there was no one in line at the snack booth. Peter returned to theater 8 in no time, and paused when he saw that a person who was not Cheri had settled down in the row they’d chosen for themselves. He rejoined Cheri, frowning a bit at the newcomer. 

“Guy says we took his seat,” Cheri murmured to him, reaching up to take the bucket of popcorn from him, which he cradled in his elbow, considering he also held two drinks. “He went to the bathroom.”

“Oh,” Peter said, a little perturbed. The guy had sat down in the seat next to the one beside Peter’s, putting him at maybe two feet away altogether. There was no bad feeling surrounding him, his senses were not warning Peter of imminent danger, so he retook his seat, deciding that maybe it was best if he didn’t get into it with the guy. Cheri didn’t seem to mind it, at any rate, and besides, the movie was beginning. 

Cheri set the popcorn down in Peter’s lap without asking. He didn’t argue, and a tiny shock went up his spinal column every time she reached over to grab some. If Peter was being stupid, he would have said that she’d done this on purpose, knowing exactly what it would do to him. He wasn’t, however, knew that the very idea was ridiculous, and so he drank his Sierra Mist and kept his eyes on the movie. 

It hadn’t taken the two of them long to figure out that they were both fans of Stephen King. Peter didn’t read much fiction, but when he did, he always reached for something by King. It wasn’t that he liked the scary, creepy, darkness of the books, but that he liked the way that King wrote, felt as though he knew the characters personally while he was reading about them. Cheri had said something similarly, during their first discussion about the author and his books, while also admitting that she did appreciate the horror aspects of them as well. 

The movies based on King’s books, however, were _ not _ something that they both liked. A lot of them, Peter and Cheri believed, had been attempted before technology had been worthy. Shining example was _ The Shining. _ Nicholson was great, the movie was not. And Cheri hated that Dick Hallorann had died. _ Dr. Sleep _ had kicked ass, though, even if it had diverged from the book quite a bit near the end. 

However, there were a few gems that they both conceded to having been fantastic pieces of literature _ and _ cinematic works. _ Shawshank Redemption _ happened to be at the top of that very short list of worthy Stephen King adaptations. The fact that they were able to sit in a movie theater and watch it close to thirty years after the movie had first come out was _ amazing, _ and it left very little room for them to exchange the commentary they would have normally. 

Not that they probably would have been doing so anyway, given the other presence in their row. Peter was the furthest thing from impolite, even when a person might have deserved some rudeness thrown their way. By extension, Cheri would have been silent as well. 

They were both fixated on the movie, rude dude sitting nearby or not. However, about halfway through, Peter realized that Cheri was shifting, more often than not. He figured out upcoming scenes in his mind, and decided that she’d probably get up to go to the restroom within the next ten minutes. 

He was right, and he smiled to himself as Cheri stood, whispering that she’d be back as she moved past him, and past the other guy, to reach the stairs that would lead out of the theater closer to the bathrooms. She was gone for maybe five minutes, and Peter watched her start back up the stairs, before returning his gaze to the movie. 

However, almost as soon as he’d done so, the hair on the back of his neck raised, and he quickly looked back over to where Cheri was coming from. She was starting past the guy who sat in their row, and Peter had time to move the bucket of popcorn out of his lap before she was tripping, and falling, straight into the spot where it had rested. 

“Shit, Cher, you okay?” Peter asked worriedly, helping her upright, even though he was on fire all over from the contact. 

“Yeah, fine,” she muttered, shooting a dirty glance towards the guy. Instead of saying anything, or even asking if they could move rows, she continued past Peter and sat down in her seat again, reaching up to fix the bandana that held back her hair. “Good job, moving the popcorn. Glad I didn’t land face first into it.”

“Yeah, uh… thanks,” Peter said, and he quickly replaced it in his lap

Cheri returned her attention to the movie, and Peter looked down at the popcorn bucket for a moment, trying to calm his heart, which was still racing. She’d fallen into his lap. _ Literally. _ He couldn’t ignore it, not anymore. He - shit. He had to make some sort of move, and see if Cheri responded. No more hesitating. No more wondering. It was time for him to do something about this. 

He spent the next twenty minutes or so trying to work up the courage to _ actually _ do something. His mind went back and forth on what he _ could _ do, ranging from sliding his arm around her shoulders, to leaning over and just kissing her, in order to satiate the desire he’d had to do so for… almost two years, if he was being honest. 

As Cheri reached over and picked up some popcorn, he realized what the best choice was, however, and he nodded a little to himself, setting his jaw. _ Be brave. You could have everything. _

A few minutes later, Cheri reached over again. Before she could dip her hand into the bucket, however, which Peter had already preemptively slid out of her reach, he put his hand in her path instead. Cheri jumped a little, next to him, when her fingers made contact with his rather than popcorn. Peter did his very best not to look at her as she glanced at him, her hand still brushing his. 

After a moment, however, he heard her let out a quiet sigh, and then her hand slid fully into his. Her palm was warm and smooth against his own, and her fingers folded over in the gaps between his. Their hands seemed to fit together perfectly, like puzzle pieces. 

_ Yes! _ Peter thought, joyously, and smiled to himself, allowing his attention to return to the movie once again. Onscreen, Morgan Freeman and Tim Robbins were having their final conversation. 

_ “Zihuatanejo,” _ Tim Robbins said, dreamily. _ “It’s in Mexico. Little place on the Pacific Ocean.” _

With his hand holding Cheri’s, Peter felt as though he were thousands of miles away, on the beach of Zihuatanejo, toes dug comfortably into the sand, blue salt water licking the edge of the beach mere feet from where he sat. The sky was clear, the sun is warm. Cheri lounged beside him, glowing. Absolute perfection. Bliss. 

The movie eventually ended, and the lights came on. Cheri blinked in the new brightness, and then she looked at him, before glancing down at their joined hands. After a moment, she smiled, and turned her eyes back up to his. “So,” she started. “Guess this was a date?” 

“Uh… yeah,” Peter said, blinking himself, now. He hadn’t even thought of that. “I mean, if you want it to have been. I’m absolutely down, as… as I’m sure has been made clear.”

Cheri chuckled. “I am happy to call this a date,” she said, and she squeezed his hand a little tighter. “We should probably go, though.”

“Right,” Peter agreed. He stood, pulling her up as well, and they exited the theater, hand-in-hand. Peter dropped their popcorn bucket in a garbage can, having held it between his arm and his chest. One hand held his soda, and the other was still grasped in Cheri’s. They exited The Oracle without letting go of one another, and didn’t until Peter had to move around to the other side of the Honda, in order to climb into the passenger’s seat. 

Once their drinks were in the cup holder, however, and Cheri had started the car, she put her left hand on the wheel, and held her right one out to him, again. Peter smiled, and immediately replaced his hand in hers.

They drove back to Peter’s apartment, and Cheri pulled up in front of the building, putting the Honda in park. They sat in silence for a moment. 

“I feel like this should be the other way around,” Peter finally said. “Me bringing you back to your apartment.”

Cheri smirked. “No thanks,” she said. “I definitely prefer to be the one driving the car we take places.” She looked at him. “Thank you for the movie, Pete. And the popcorn and soda. I guess I don’t have to worry about paying you back, now that I know it was a date.”

“Right,” Peter said with a nod. “Not that you would’ve had to worry about it if it _ hadn’t _ turned into a date, obviously.”

Cheri made a face. It didn’t take Peter any time at all to see that it was playful in nature, and that the sentence paired with it was pure sarcasm: “You turned it into a date just so I wouldn’t insist on paying you back, huh?” 

Peter comically snapped his fingers. “Dunk,” he said. “You caught me.”

“Shit.” Cheri sighed a little, and waved her finger at him. “Tricky, tricky, Queens. I can’t believe you.”

“The trick probably won’t work twice, huh?” Peter asked.

“Well, no,” she said, “but maybe I could pull it on you, next time.”

A light bulb of sorts turned on inside of Peter’s chest. He grinned at her. “That might be something to consider,” he agreed. “And then I could pull it on you, the time after that? You’ll have forgotten about this time by then.”

Cheri’s dimples appeared. “Doubtful,” she said. She leaned over the console towards him, and placed a kiss on his cheek, then hesitated a moment. “I’ll see you later.”

“Okay,” he said, blinking. He managed to get himself out of the car, despite the fact that the kiss on the cheek had stunned him, sent his whole being into a tailspin. He wobbled up the stairs to the apartment, and stumbled into it after getting the door unlocked. Once inside, he had to fall back heavily against the door, and he smiled goofily to himself, reaching up to touch the cheek that Cheri’s lips had caressed. 

“What’s up with you?” That was Ned, sitting on the couch, and looking over at him with a raised eyebrow. “Where’d you even _ go _ tonight?” 

“Movie,” Peter murmured, still marveling over the kiss. 

“By yourself?” 

“No. Cheri.”

“Oh.” Ned was silent, and then he inhaled sharply. “Oh! And it became a _ date, _ didn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” Peter said, his smile growing. “It was a date.”

_ “Yes!” _ Ned cheered, and Peter faintly recognized that he’d jumped to his feet in celebration. “Yes! Fuck yes! _ HAROLD. YOU OWE ME FIFTY BUCKS!” _

Feet pounded out of the hallway into the front room of the apartment. “It finally fucking happened?” Peter heard Harry exclaim. 

“Yep!” Ned said, cackling. “Seven days later than my guess! Fifty bucks! Hand ‘em over, loser!” 

Peter did not even try to understand what was going on, still too dazed. “I’ll see you guys in the morning,” he said, and he coasted across the room and down the hall to his bedroom. He fell onto his bed, gazing up at the ceiling, a dreamy smile on his face the whole time. 

Maybe twenty minutes later, his phone chimed, in his pocket. He immediately sat up, pulling it out. 

> _** Cheri:** Hey, I decided to crash at Megan’s. Thanks again for tonight. _

Peter’s entire being felt elevated. He managed to respond, 

> _** Me:** Thank you. And thanks for texting. Good night, beautiful. _

before he collapsed back on the bed again. A giddy laugh bubbled up from his chest, and he almost smacked himself in the face in his haste to lift the phone as it chimed again. 

> _** Cheri:** <3 _

“Shit,” he breathed, and let his eyes fall shut. _ Finally._

* * *

Megan was shoveling popcorn into her mouth, eyes fixed on her laptop screen, where the final episode of season 3 of _ The Good Place _ was playing, when her cell phone rang next to her knee, on the couch. She sighed, paused the episode, and lifted the phone to her ear. 

“Yello?”

“PETER AND I WENT ON A DATE!” 

Megan held the phone away from her ear for a moment, blinking into the air in front of her face. She then cleared her throat, and brought the phone back to her ear. 

“Congrats,” she said, evenly. “Do you realize that it’s almost…” She lowered the phone to see the time. “One in the morning?” 

“Yes,” Cheri said, breathlessly, “which is why I’m coming over to sleep at your place, because it is dark as fuck and I can’t see anything, but I had to tell you THAT WE WENT ON A DATE, AND WE HELD HANDS, AND I WANTED TO KISS HIM.”

“But you didn’t?” Megan concluded, as she moved her laptop off of her lap in preparation for when she’d have to go to her front door to let Cheri in. 

“No,” Cheri said with a sigh. “I should have, but I got nervous at the last second, so I just kissed him on the cheek instead, but STILL.”

Megan had to smile a little. Cheri was the cutest. “I’m happy for you,” she said. “Are you almost here?” 

“Parking downstairs right now,” Cheri responded. “But I couldn’t wait to tell you that PETER AND I ARE A COUPLE.” 

“Finally,” Megan said, and she lowered her phone, hanging up the call. 

Maybe five minutes later, Cheri was sitting on her couch, bouncing up and down, clearly filled to the brim with post-first-date adrenaline. Megan envied her, almost; she hadn’t had a first date in a long time. 

“You good?” she prompted after watching Cheri bounce for a long moment. 

Cheri nodded rapidly up and down, and stopped bouncing, let out a steadying breath through her mouth. “Fine,” she said. “Just. Wow. It finally happened.” 

“It’s great,” Megan agreed, “and I’d like to celebrate with you, but I actually have a class at nine tomorrow.” She gazed forlornly at her laptop, where the half-finished episode of _ The Good Place _ waited. “I guess I should thank you for calling me; I probably would’ve stayed up all night.” 

“Okay,” Cheri said. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Sure,” Megan said, standing. “I don’t have a toothbrush for you or anything.”

“That’s okay,” Cheri said. “I’ll head home once the sun comes up; I don’t have a class until tomorrow afternoon.”

Megan shook her head. “You’re something else, kid,” she said. “Try to get some sleep, anyway.”

“I will,” Cheri assured, plopping down on the couch. Megan nodded in agreement, and disappeared for the bathroom of her studio apartment. Cheri stared up at the high ceiling for a moment, a goofy smile on her face, before she pulled out her phone, remembering that she needed to text Peter. 

> _** Me:** Hey, I decided to crash at Megan’s. Thanks again for tonight. _
> 
> She received a response thirty seconds later. 
> 
> _** Pete:** Thank you. And thanks for texting. Good night, beautiful. _

A chirping sort of noise escaped Cheri from her very soul, and she severely debated her next text before sending it. 

> _** Me:** <3 _

She then turned the device off, so that she’d still have some battery when she drove home, and turned onto her side, facing the back of the couch. She wondered if she should borrow some mouthwash or something, at the very least, but before she could debate the idea for very long, she was asleep, the adrenaline high falling flat.

She was awake maybe four hours later, though, just as the sun began to shine through Megan’s east facing window. She blinked against it, unused to be woken by the sun, and fumbled for her phone to check the time. She groaned, seeing it was almost 4:30, and rubbed at her eyes, reaching down to pull her shoes on. 

As she was doing so, licking her teeth, which tasted crusted over with popcorn flavor, her phone buzzed. She reached for it, confused, and then quickly cupped a hand over her mouth when she saw that it was a text from Peter, that he’d sent almost right after her last message from before.

> _** Pete:** <3 _

Cheri inhaled, sharply, and lowered her hand, a grin on her face. It stayed there practically the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, It™ is code for Cheri and Peter's relationship.


	38. Writing a Symphony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a date, but like, a hang-out-at-home date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was expecting more of a reaction to the last chapter, but I suppose since everyone knew that Peter and Cheri ended up dating, it didn't matter so much, but hey, I thought it was cute! 
> 
> This one is cute, too.

**August 20th, 2022 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, USA**

“So, uh, this is my room,” Peter said, gesturing around the space. Cheri lifted an eyebrow at him as she dropped her bag on the floor. 

“Pete,” she said, “I’ve literally _slept_ in your room before.”

“Right,” he said. Why the hell was he having a hard time breathing? “I just - not as, uh…”

“Not as your girlfriend,” Cheri said for him. 

“Sure. If that’s… if that’s the word we want to use,” Peter agreed, rubbing at the back of his head. 

“I mean, it sounds okay to me,” Cheri said, smiling. “Does ‘boyfriend’ work for you?” 

Peter smiled back. “Yeah, it’s great,” he replied. “I just know that sometimes people in relationships don’t like to refer to one another as boyfriend and girlfriend, so we could be like them and do something less mainstream.”

“Or we could make it a lot easier for ourselves by sticking to the old fashioned way,” Cheri suggested.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Peter said. “Uh… so. Do you want some popcorn, or something? We could watch a movie.” He had no idea what people did on second dates, but he was pretty sure that was what this was supposed to be. 

“Sure,” Cheri said, amicably. “Popcorn sounds awesome, actually.”

“Great. I’ll go make some,” Peter said. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Cheri went to do that, kicking off her shoes and settling down on his bed. Peter watched her for a moment, a fuzzy warm feeling in his chest at seeing her there, but he quickly shook it off and hurried for the kitchen. 

As he stood in front of the microwave making popcorn, he heard someone enter the kitchen behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, and made a face at Harry, who grinned in response. 

“So,” his friend said, hopping onto the opposite counter and swinging his legs a little. “The two of you are... hanging out in your room. Alone."

"We've hung out alone before," Peter said, popping the microwave door open. 

“Sure, but not as people who are dating,” Harry responded. Peter pulled a bowl out of a cabinet, and dumped the popcorn into it. “Does it feel different?” 

“I mean… a little,” Peter said. “It is weird to, like, think of it as a date, rather than us just hanging out, but… it can still just be us hanging out, right? Just, like, maybe we’ll cuddle while we do that.” He studied the popcorn for a moment, and then looked at Harry. “I guess I should thank you for introducing us.”

“It happened like two years ago,” Harry said, and Peter shrugged. 

“I know, but we’re dating now, which is kind of a big deal, and wouldn’t have happened if you _ hadn’t _introduced us, so… thanks.” He picked up the bowl of popcorn, and smiled at his friend. “Don’t come knocking.”

Harry put up his hands with a smirk, offering Peter a wink. Peter headed out of the kitchen and back down the hall to his bedroom. When he walked in, he found Cheri standing in front of his closet. He almost panicked, but then he remembered that his suit was currently ruminating under his bed, needing some serious repair after an encounter he'd had the night before with some of Fisk's men, so she wouldn’t find it in there. 

“How often do you build a new Lego thing?” she asked, glancing back at him with an amused grin. 

“Oh, uh… we actually haven’t done one in a while,” Peter admitted. He set the bowl of popcorn down on the desk, and joined her in front of the closet. He gestured to the Millenium Falcon that sat on the dresser inside. “This one we did a long time ago, and it isn’t even that good. Ned’s got the Death Star in his room.”

Cheri laughed, and moved away from him, picking up a few pieces of popcorn as she leaned back against the desk. “Nerds,” she said, not without affection. 

“Please, just because our obsession is with _ Star Wars _ instead of… what, _ Harry Potter?” _ Peter asked with a grin of his own. 

“You think I’m obsessed with _ Harry Potter?” _ Cheri asked, clearly befuddled. “What the hell?”

“Well, you’ve gotta have something other than music,” Peter said. He frowned playfully, tilting his head as he took her in, and tried to think of what it could be that she was super into, knew extensive lore about, had spent hours on a Wikipedia for, aside from music. Cheri waited, arms crossed, expectant. 

He snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it,” he said, and Cheri raised an eyebrow. _ “Glee.” _

“Hah, no,” Cheri said with a snort. “Never watched a single episode in my entire life.”

“You’re kidding,” Peter said, baffled. “You _ must _be.”

“I’m not,” Cheri said, shaking her head. “If I had an obsession besides music, you’d know what it was by now.” She paused, and then smiled a little. “I do like _ Harry Potter _ quite a bit, though.”

“Ah, see, I knew it,” Peter said. Cheri reached for a few more pieces of popcorn, tossed them casually into her mouth as she examined his room with a sweep of her eyes. Peter watched her do so, and was, incredibly, struck with the insane idea to cross the room and kiss her. 

_ Well, why the hell not? _ he found the voice inside his head asking. _ I mean, you _ are _ dating. It’s probably about time you gave kissing her a shot. It isn’t as though you haven’t thought about it before now. You’ve thought about it _ extensively _ before now. _

That was true. He’d gone about it as he would when thinking about an experiment he wished to conduct. Eliminate any outside influences, get the appropriate measurements, make sure controls were all present and accounted for. He thought that this might be a great time to begin the experiment itself. He had his subject (himself and Cheri), had his desired outcome (Cheri kissing him back), and thought he knew what he needed in order to get that outcome (the right way to approach her, where to put his hands, which direction to tilt his head, etcetera). So… why not give it a shot? 

Cheri had finally noticed him staring at her, and she was giving him a look full of amusement, but there was something else there, too, that suggested she knew what he was thinking about. Unprompted, she tilted her head, and shifted her leg a little, so that her knee fell to the side, opening up a space in front of her that, if Peter was measuring correctly, might just be wide enough for him to fit in. 

“See anything interesting?” she questioned, raising her eyebrows in curiosity. 

“I mean, yeah, definitely,” Peter said. He walked closer to where she stood in front of his desk. When he was within a few inches of her, he reached out, and set his hands on her waist. Cheri inhaled softly as his thumbs coasted along the skin that the hem of her shirt did not cover properly, there, and Peter felt his neck growing warmer by the second. 

“I… I’m going to… test something, now,” he murmured, closing the space that remained between them, until he stood in the spot that she’d opened up by uncrossing her legs. Just as he’d thought, he fit perfectly. He met her eyes, which were glittering. “If you don’t mind.”

“No, go ahead,” Cheri said. She was still trying to convey amusement, but it was hard to read with how low her voice had gotten. “Scientists like to test all sorts of things, right?” 

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. His eyes fell back down to her lips, which looked incredibly soft. Peter decided that he very much wanted to know what they felt like against his. “Uh… testing, now.”

“Please,” Cheri breathed, leaning up a bit. Peter, who’d already taken into consideration their height difference, was fully prepared to lean down and meet her a little bit more than halfway. An issue arose immediately, in that their heads had tilted the same direction, causing an uncomfortable brush of their noses, rather than first contact of lips. Peter quickly corrected himself, aware of Cheri smiling as he did so. They remained still for a moment, once the correction had been made, and then Peter closed the final distance between their lips. 

With all the thought he’d put into this moment, Peter hadn’t, for the life of him, been able to figure out what it was that Cheri’s lips would _ taste _ like. In fact, he hadn’t even really considered it, worrying too much about how to approach the situation rather than what the sensation of finally being in the situation would turn out to be. As such, the obvious tastes were present as he brushed his lips against hers for the first time. Cherry lip balm, mint from the gum she’d been chewing on the way to the apartment from campus. For a very scary moment, his thoughts drifted to the fault he might have committed in not chewing a piece of gum himself, but then he recognized the taste of butter on Cheri’s mouth from the popcorn, and decided that it probably wouldn’t have mattered, considering. 

It didn’t seem to matter that he hadn’t had gum to her, either, because Cheri’s hands drifted up to his shoulders, and her mouth parted just the slightest bit, inviting him in for a deeper kiss. Peter saw no reason not to accept, considering that he was enjoying himself immensely, and pressed forward. The sunbursts that had exploded in his chest on first touch were still very much active, and they were only joined by the feeling of shooting stars rocketing through him when the kiss deepened. He sincerely hoped that Cheri felt similarly, or at least, was experiencing her own form of metaphorical euphoria via pleasant heart palpitations and escalation of blood running through her veins. 

The shortness of breath that would affect them both with enough time obviously hit her, first, and she had to break the kiss off after maybe thirty seconds, thirty seconds that Peter knew he’d never experience exactly the same way again, but would go back to the memory of for ages. He opened his eyes, doing his best to mimic her own breathing, which was actually a lot easier than he would have thought. Her own eyes were already open, and they met his at once. Her pupils were blown, not that he could really tell considering how dark her irises were naturally. He leaned back a bit farther, to take in her whole face. 

Her lips were swollen but soft. He could feel heat radiating off of her cheeks. She was panting, just a little, and her breath was warm as it touched his face. Her eyelashes fluttered, and he saw her dimples just before she placed one of her hands on the back of his neck, and pulled him down to her for another kiss. 

Peter decided to actually _ move _ this time, since she’d moved the last time, by putting her hands in different locations. He allowed his own to drift around to the small of her back instead. Cheri helpfully leaned away from the desk in order for him to do so. The tips of her longest curls brushed against the backs of his fingers. He felt Cheri’s thighs press into him on either side, and he let out a gentle gasp of surprise when her teeth scraped his lower lip. 

“Sorry,” she murmured, pulling back enough to speak. They shared the air between them. “I - sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Peter responded, and quickly leaned back in. This was very rapidly becoming less of an experiment, not that he minded. Even though his mind was processing data as quickly as it came as the kiss progressed, the rest of his body was dealing with the sensations of actually being involved in the kiss, being involved in a kiss with _ Cheri, _ which was doing all sorts of things to him internally that he hadn’t experienced in quite some time. His heart raced, his breath started to come more shortly. Static electricity shot through his torso, into his arms, and fingers, down his legs into his toes. A warm blush had established itself on his neck and ears. Cheri bit his lip again, gently, but the phantom pressure of her teeth still lingered afterwards, a feeling that he savored. 

It was almost _ too much _ for him to be taking in, all at once. He understood, then, that he needed to cut this off soon, before his senses went haywire, and he had to bury himself under layers of blankets beneath the bed, to block out any and all sensory information. It took up quite a bit of his will to do so, but he managed, pulling away but resting his forehead against hers, panting, eyes shut. 

Silence reigned, and then there was a soft brush of fingertips on the edge of his jaw. “Queens?” Cheri’s voice, light, soft. Musical. Yep, yep, that was it. Everything about her was fucking _ musical. _ She was writing a symphony on his soul. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

“You okay?” she murmured. 

He managed a nod, removing one of the hands from her back to take the one she was using to cradle his face. He turned his head, kissed her fingers, all with his eyes still shut. “Perfect,” he managed at last, and finally allowed himself to open his eyes. 

Her own were gentle, blinking up at him. There were still remnants of the kiss there, but mostly, it had faded for the sake of her thoughts about his well being. He wished he could record the expression he saw on her face, but he really didn’t think words would do it justice. No wonder she’d decided to write music instead of something like poetry; Peter thought a series of notes and harmonies would better describe the feeling in the room than any other way of expressing thought. 

Cheri let out a quiet laugh. “I was worried,” she admitted. 

“Yeah, sorry, it - I have to take a step back, sometimes,” he said, telling her as much of a truth as he could. They met eyes, and both started to laugh. “Uhm. Well.” Peter exhaled, and rested his forehead against hers. “At least we don’t have to worry about it being weird.”

“Yeah, no, not weird,” Cheri agreed. “It was the best kiss I’ve ever had, actually.”

“Same,” Peter agreed. “Wow.” 

“We should… do that more,” Cheri decided. “Right?” 

“Yes, absolutely,” he said. “But uhm. Maybe we should watch the movie, before the popcorn gets gross?” 

“Right. Also a good idea,” Cheri agreed, and Peter backed away a little, regretfully. “Which movie?” 

“Mm, don’t know,” Peter said, reaching for his backpack and pulling his laptop out of it. “Do you have a preference?” 

When Cheri did not respond, he glanced over his shoulder at her. She smiled, her dimples appearing again. “I think I have a better idea than watching a movie,” she said. 

“What is it?” Peter asked, curious but also just a bit hesitant. 

Cheri picked up the bowl of popcorn, and crossed the room to his bed, which she settled down on top of. “How good are you at improv?” she queried once she’d made herself comfortable. 

Peter grinned, and joined her on the bed, bringing the laptop with him. “I think I can come up with a good one-liner or two,” he said, very much thinking about the D&D campaign that he was DM-ing.

“All right, then here’s the pitch,” Cheri said. “You ready?” Peter nodded. “Let’s turn on a movie neither of us have ever seen, and improvise every piece of dialogue.” 

Peter laughed, opening the laptop. “That’s a _ horrible _ idea,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

They flipped a coin, to pick between two movies that they found online which neither had seen, and ended up selecting something called _ Con Air. _ Seeing that it had Nicolas Cage in it, Peter could only imagine that the actual movie plot wasn’t much better than whatever he and Cheri would come for it via their improvised dialogue. 

When the movie first began, after the opening scene in which Cage’s character, whom Cheri dubbed _ Brock _ via an improvised line, ended up getting arrested, came a very awkward, close to five minute long silence, probably due to the fact that there was narration or something in between the arrest and whatever came next. During those five minutes, whenever one or the other of them wasn’t too busy giggling, they were exchanging kisses, or playing footsie. Peter, who hadn’t played footsie with anyone since maybe eighth grade, thought that the butterflies in his belly were juvenile, but not necessarily in a bad way, just as the game of footsie itself wasn’t. 

“Why did anyone _ ever _ think this haircut was a good look?” Cheri asked, while their feet were dueling at the other end of the bed. She gestured to Nic Cage, on the screen of the laptop. “I mean… what?” 

Peter laughed. “I don’t know,” he said. “It is bad, though, isn’t it?” 

“Please never let your hair grow that long,” Cheri said, looking at him. 

“I won’t,” Peter promised. “It gets curly, past a certain point, and we do not want that.”

Cheri smiled widely. _ “Curly?” _she asked, gleefully, and Peter blinked, realizing the information that he’d just disclosed. 

“Uh… no. No. Not… not curly. Did I say curly? I didn’t - that last sentence I said? It didn’t actually happen. You imagined it.” 

“Peter Parker, I must see you with curly hair,” Cheri said. “It has to happen now. It’s currently my only goal in life, to see you with curly hair, please help me achieve it.”

“No, no, I can’t - I didn’t actually say that I have curly hair, at any point, and so therefore I do not understand this goal that you’ve suddenly created for yourself,” Peter said. “I’m sorry, Cher, I know that boyfriends are only supposed to be supportive, but I can’t support you in something impossible.”

Cheri made a face, and Peter couldn’t resist: he leaned over and kissed it away. When he pulled back, she was smiling again. 

“One day,” she declared. “I’ll see your curly hair one day.” She considered it. “I bet May has pictures. I’ll ask her.” 

“You will _ not,” _Peter said immediately. “Oh my God, Cheri, please don’t ask May for pictures of me with curly hair.” 

“But sweetheart, darling of my life, what will I set as my phone’s background otherwise?” Cheri asked, batting her eyelashes. 

Peter laughed, and grabbed her phone, which had been resting between them. He navigated his way to the camera, and then held the device out, looking at her expectantly when she didn’t immediately lean towards him. 

“Oh, I get it,” Cheri said, and she scooted closer, until her head tilted and could rest on his shoulder. Peter did his best not to inhale as he leaned his own head against the top of hers. They met eyes via the screen of the phone, and Cheri smiled, softly. 

As soon as he could see her dimples, Peter took a picture. He lowered the phone, Cheri raising her head again, and they both looked at the picture.

“It’s great,” Cheri said after a moment, taking the phone back from him and setting the picture as her background. She tapped out of the camera app, and admired the phone’s screen, before glancing at him again. “Good idea.”

“Send it to me,” Peter suggested, picking up his own phone from the bedside table. Cheri did as he asked, and within seconds, Peter had set the picture as his background as well. He looked over at her, and smiled. “I think we look pretty good.”

“What, together, or individually?” Cheri asked, tone lighthearted. 

Peter leaned towards her and kissed her, pulling back a fraction to say, “Both,” before he closed the space again. The movie played on silently in the background, completely forgotten.


	39. A New York State of Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheri sometimes puts on a performance for the residents of an old folks' home. Peter, Harry, and Ned decided to attend one.

**September 10th, 2022 - New East Side Nursing Home - 25 Willett St, New York, NY, USA**

“Why’re we here, again?” Ned asked, following Peter through the door of the retirement home community building. 

“They’re paying Cheri to perform a few songs,” Peter explained. “She’s done it before.” 

“The old people?” Ned clarified, and Peter nodded. “Huh. I didn’t know old people liked music, past a certain point.”

“Old people like music that they can recognize,” Harry told him. “So we’ll be listening to hits from, like, the seventies and eighties for the next hour.”

“Ah.” Ned shrugged his shoulders. “That’s fine. Seventies was the best decade of music, I think.”

“Yeah? Name one band that isn’t Queen or The Beatles,” Harry prompted, and Ned made a face. 

“Uh… fuckin’... Def Leppard?” 

Peter sighed to himself while Harry shook his head in disappointment. Ned held out his hands. “What? They were part of the seventies.”

“They formed in 1977,” Cheri said, poking her head out of a side room off the main hall they were standing in. She tilted her head, indicating for the three of them to join her inside the room, and disappeared again. 

“See?” Ned said, gesturing towards where she’d been, while Peter pushed his way into the room. 

“Bud? I’m gonna ask you now to let it go,” Harry told him, following. 

“But I was right, technically!” Ned insisted. 

The room itself looked to be some sort of rec area. There were a few tables set up, and Cheri was seated behind a piano in one corner, playing a few chords. Peter went over to her, and leaned against the top of the piano, watching her play. She hummed along, her voice rising and falling in relation to where lyrics would have gone had she been singing. Peter recognized the song, and he grinned. 

“You just have everything known to man in your repertoire, don’t you?” he queried. 

“Sure,” Cheri said with a shrug. “My memory’s good like that.” She looked up at him, and smiled back, before leaning up a little so that she could kiss him. “Thanks for coming. You didn’t have to.”

“What, and miss a chance to see you perform?” Peter shook his head. “Never.” He glanced over his shoulder towards the rest of the room. “Where’re the… audience members?” 

“Old folk,” Cheri said, amused. “They’ll come and go. I start at two whether or not anyone is down here.”

“So you perform to an empty room, sometimes?” Peter asked, and Cheri nodded. “That sucks.”

“Nah,” Cheri answered. She played a few more notes. “I don’t mind the acoustics here, so it’s good to practice.” She glanced at her phone. “Almost two. You guys can sit down anywhere, but if the room fills up, you’ll probably have to stand.” 

“Duh,” Peter said, making a face. “We wouldn’t make the old folk stand.” 

Cheri chortled, and Peter went to join Ned and Harry again, who were still discussing bands that had existed in the tail end of the seventies, and whether or not their music was included in the seventies decade, or if it shifted to the eighties instead. 

“Would you guys give it a rest?” he sighed, pulling out a chair at one of the tables. “Honestly, neither of you know enough about music to be having this conversation.”

“And you think you do?” Harry retorted. 

“No,” Peter said. “Which is why I’m not joining in.” 

A chord was struck up from where Cheri sat at the piano, ending their argument before it could begin. Cheri stuck with piano for the first tune, playing a melody that Peter vaguely recognized, but playing it well enough to where it didn’t matter that there was no singing along. He half expected there to be some sort of commentary between songs, but instead, Cheri merely concluded the first one, took a moment, and then slid right into the next. 

_ “Why do birds suddenly appear _ _  
_ _ Every time you are near? _ _  
_ _ Just like me, they long to be _ _  
_ _ Close to you.” _

Harry made a show of sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes. Peter ignored him, smiling dreamily in Cheri’s direction. He loved it when she sang. Harry looked at Ned, clearly surprised that Peter had offered no retaliation to the face he’d made. Ned merely shrugged, and swayed back and forth along to the music. 

The song was relatively short, and apparently, Cheri’s music was a draw, because a few old folks had entered the room by the time it ended, looking curious. They sat down at the empty tables. Peter counted the remaining seats, and determined that they’d stand up at the end of the next song if more people showed up. 

“Afternoon, everybody,” Cheri said when she was done singing. She stood up so that she could address the room, smiling. “Good to see I have an audience, today. I’m here for an hour, and if you have a request, I’m happy to take it. For now, though, I think I’m gonna go ahead and sing a song I’m pretty sure we’re all familiar with. If you know it, go ahead and join in. That’s always fun.” 

She sat down again, and started to play a moment later. Peter did recognize the song, as she’d said, and he grinned, sitting up straighter. The old folk looked pretty enthused, too. Several of them were smiling. A couple were even tapping the table top in a rhythm. Cheri began to sing. 

_ “Some folks like to get away, take a holiday from the neighborhood _ _  
_ _ Hop a flight to Miami Beach or to Hollywood _ _  
_ _ But I’m taking a Greyhound on the Hudson River line _ _  
_ _ I’m in a New York state of mind. _

_ “I’ve seen all the movie stars in their fancy cars and limousines. _ _  
_ _ Been high in the Rockies under the evergreens _ _  
_ _ I know what I’m needing, and I don’t want to waste more time _ _  
_ _ I’m in a New York state of mind.” _

She notably skipped over a section of song to the second bridge, but that didn’t seem to both anyone. They were all listening attentively, and a few joined in with her as she continued to sing. 

_ “It was so easy living day by day; _ _  
_ _ Out of touch with the rhythm and blues _ _  
_ _ But now I need a little give and take _ _  
_ _ The _ New York Times, _ the _Daily News.

_ “It comes down to reality, _ _  
_ _ And it’s fine with me, ‘cause I’ve let it slide _ _  
_ _ I don’t care if it’s Chinatown or on Riverside _ _  
_ _ I don’t have any reasons I’ve left them all behind _ _  
_ _ I’m in a New York state of mind. _

_ “I’m just taking a Greyhound on the Hudson River line _ _  
_ _ Because I’m in a New York state of mind.” _

The room applauded, and Cheri smiled over the piano at them. “That was good, right?” she asked. “Maybe we should move onto something with a little more energy, though.”

She did just that, playing a fast melody across the piano keys that had Peter grinning. Ned kicked him lightly under the table, gesturing with his head towards the door. Peter glanced in that direction, noticing the new arrivals to the room, and he pushed away from the table and migrated to the back wall, Ned and Harry following his lead. The old folk immediately took the empty seats, paying close attention to Cheri. 

_ “They said, get back, honky cat _ _  
_ _ Better get back to the woods _  
_ Well I quit those day and my redneck ways _ _  
And oh, oh, change is gonna do me good.” _

The next hour passed by pretty quickly. Cheri continued to sing songs from the 1970’s. The old folk in the audience would sometimes sing along, sometimes not. Peter watched Cheri throughout it all, admiring her. He hadn’t seen her perform since the musical her freshman year. He hadn’t forgotten, necessarily, what it was like, seeing her perform, but it was an experience. This wasn’t Cheri acting, singing in a role that she was playing. This was simply _ Cheri _ doing what she loved, which was play a piano and sing. 

And he loved it, loved seeing her this way. It was her element, where she shone _ so _ brightly. He wished this could be how she was always. 

He didn’t even realize that an hour had passed until Harry nudged him with his elbow. “Dude, where’d you go?” he asked, frowning. “Let’s get out of here.”

Peter blinked, and looked around. Some of the old folk were migrating out of the room. Others had pulled out some different board games and were setting them up to play. Cheri was being thanked by a couple. She smiled, graciously, shaking their hands, and then excused herself, walking around them to where the Trio were standing. 

“Hey,” she said, reaching back to let down her hair, which she’d had pulled up into a bun. “I can drive you guys back over to your apartment, if you want. Make it easier.”

“Hell yeah,” Ned said. “Let’s get some food, too.”

“Good idea,” Harry agreed. He reached over and wrapped an arm around Cheri’s neck. “Good job, kid.”

“Get off me,” Cheri said, brushing him away, but she was smiling. She met Peter’s eyes, and he grinned back, before slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her close to him. 

“You were amazing,” he said as they followed Ned and Harry towards the entrance of the retirement home. 

“Ah.” Cheri shook her head. “That was nothing.”

“You played hits from the seventies for an entire hour, and didn’t mess up once,” Peter said. Cheri laughed, and he pressed a kiss to her temple. “You’re something else, Treble Clef.” 

“And that’s a good thing?” she queried, and Peter looked down at her. 

“What do you think?” 

She grinned, and leaned up a bit to kiss him for real. Peter smiled through it, until they broke apart when Harry loudly cleared his throat. They turned towards him and Ned, and found them both standing in front of the door leading outside. Harry looked exasperated. Ned was studying the ceiling. 

“Are we going, or do we need to go wait in the car while the two of you find, like, a broom closet?” Harry asked, politely. 

Cheri scrunched her nose, and walked away from Peter, but pulled him along by holding his hand as she went. “You’re disgusting,” she said to Harry, pushing past him outside. Peter could only shrug helplessly at his friends, who exchanged a glance before Harry rolled his eyes and followed the couple. 

Ned smiled to himself, and shook his head, before doing the same.


	40. Coffee Is A Euphemism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned pulls the laundry thing, and it kind of works out, except for when it doesn't.

**September 17th, 2022 - Empire State University - Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“So, yeah, I really hate laundry,” Ned said. “I hate laundry so much that I own, like, forty pairs of underwear.”

“You do not,” Nate said, shaking his head with a laugh.

“I do!” Ned insisted. “I hate doing laundry that much. My goal is to eventually own, like, 360 pairs of underwear so that I’ll only have to do, like, one load of laundry a year.”

“That is completely ridiculous,” Nathan said. “What about all the other clothes you wear?” 

“Ah, that’s different,” Ned said. 

Nate sighed. “I guess so. You can wear the same pair of pants four times in a row before you have to wash them.”

“Exactly,” Ned said. “Especially if you’re not, like, gardening while wearing them on any particular day!” 

“How do your roommates deal with you?” Nathan asked, and Ned smiled. 

“They love me, what’re you talking about?” Nate chuckled, and Ned glanced at his phone. “Hm, it’s almost midnight.” 

“Is it? Shit.” Nate flipped closed the textbook he had open on the table in front of him. “Guess we better get going.” 

“Where do you live?” Ned asked him. 

“Ah, about ten blocks from campus,” Nathan replied. “I’ll catch a cab.”

“Hey, you don’t need to do that,” Ned said, quickly. “I have a friend with a car. Let me text her.”

“You think she’s around at almost midnight?” Nathan queried. 

“She’s a music education major, I’m sure she’s close by,” Ned answered, typing out the message. 

> _ **Me:** I need your car to drive a cute boy home please say you’re on campus. _
> 
> _ **Cheri:** What the fuck. _
> 
> _ **Me:** Cheri. Cheri he’s so cute pls do this for the bi solidarity. _
> 
> _ **Cheri:** Ugh. You’ll owe me. Especially if nothing comes from this. _
> 
> _ **Me:** He’s cute and he laughed at my laundry thing something is deffo gonna come from this are you kidding? _
> 
> _ **Cheri:** Aw, Ned, you did the *laundry* thing? _
> 
> _ **Me:** He laughed at it! Are you on campus or not? _
> 
> _ **Cheri:** Yes, I’m on campus. I’ll meet you guys in the library parking lot in three minutes. _
> 
> _ **Me:** You’re a blessing not only to Peter but to all humanity thank you. _
> 
> _ **Cheri:** Stop sucking my dick and get back to working on sucking Cute Boy’s. _

“She’s gonna meet us,” Ned said, looking up from his phone. “Told you she was still on campus.” 

“And she’s really gonna let you borrow her car?” Nate asked, and Ned shrugged. 

“She’s dating my best friend, so…”

“Ah, she does things for you so that you don’t give her the “You hurt him, I’ll kill you,” talk,” Nate concluded. “Got it.”

“Pretty much,” Ned confirmed, packing up his own study materials. 

They both then headed out of the library and around to the parking lot behind it. Cheri was already there, leaning back against her Honda, keys dangling from her finger. 

“Hey,” she greeted, straightening up when they approached. 

“Hey,” Ned returned. “Cheri, this is Nathan. He’s in a couple of classes with me.”

“Nice to meet you,” Cheri said, and she handed her keys to Ned. “I better get my car back safely, or I’ll beat you senseless.”

“I believe you,” Ned said, putting up his hands. “I’m a better driver than Harry, and I’m _ definitely _ better than Peter.”

“Well, duh, that’s not even a challenge,” Cheri said. “Speaking of Peter -”

“I’m here!” All three of them turned at Peter’s voice, in time to see him jogging across the parking lot to where they were standing. He paused next to Cheri. “I’m here.”

“Good,” Cheri said. “Take me home.”

“Oh. Okay.” Peter looked at Ned, and then at Nathan. “But I didn’t meet Ned’s friend.” 

“I’m Nate,” Nathan said, holding out his hand to shake. Peter did so, and Nathan tilted his head towards Cheri. “You should probably do what she says, though.”

“Smart boy,” Cheri agreed. She looked up at Peter. “We’re going?” 

“Yeah, all right,” Peter said. “Uh, Ned?”

“I’ll text you,” Ned replied. “See you later.”

They walked off, hands joined and swinging between them. Ned watched them go, one hundred percent certain that Peter had been asleep until Cheri had texted or called him, and asked him to walk her home. 

“How long have they been together?” Nathan asked. 

“It feels like years,” Ned said, “but it’s actually been a month.” Nate looked surprised, and Ned shrugged. “I know, it’s crazy.” He gestured to the car. “Ready?” 

“Yeah, I’ll tell you how to get there,” Nate said, and moved to climb into the passenger seat. Ned exhaled a breath, and settled in behind the wheel. 

The ride to Nathan’s apartment building took about twenty minutes, even though it was late at night. When they got there, Ned pulled Cheri’s car up to the curb outside, and Nate looked over at him. 

“Thanks for the ride,” he said. “Really, I didn’t - I mean, this was a lot less trouble than finding a cab near campus so late.”

“Ah, it was nothing,” Ned said. “Cheri’s good about this sort of thing.” 

“Yeah, she seems cool,” Nate agreed. There was silence for a moment, and then he looked at Ned again. “Hey, do you wanna come upstairs for some coffee?” 

Ned made a face. “Mm, no, it’s too late for me to be drinking coffee,” he said, shaking his head. “Sorry. Maybe some other time?” 

Nathan blinked at him, clearly surprised. “Uh. Yeah. Sure.” He gestured towards his door. “I’m gonna go, then.”

“Okay,” Ned said, cheerfully. “I’ll see you on Monday?” 

“Yeah,” Nate said, and then he pushed open the door and climbed from the car. “Later.”

He closed the door, and Ned watched him head into the building. He then faced forward again, and his expression slid into one of horror as he realized what he’d just done.

* * *

“Son of a bitch,” he said, a little while later. “Coffee meant _ sex.'"_

"Of _ course _coffee meant sex, you moron!” Harry exclaimed. “God, how have you gotten anywhere in this world?” 

“Harry,” Peter said, frowning at him, while Ned merely shook his head, gazing down at the floor. 

“He’s right,” he said, despondently. “I’m completely useless. He super wanted me to come upstairs so that we could… y’know, and I fuckin’ missed the signal entirely. I _ am _ a moron.” 

Peter sighed. “Well, maybe you should text him tomorrow,” he said. 

“What? No! I can’t text him the _ next day,” _ Ned said, horrified by the prospect. “That’s not how this works.”

“What the hell do you mean?” Cheri asked, dipping a strawberry into the bowl of melted chocolate that was sitting on the coffee table. “Having a dude text me the next day was always the best.” When Peter looked at her, she smiled apologetically, but went on, “I think he’d appreciate it.”

“I’ll seem desperate,” Ned said. 

“No, you’ll seem like you like this guy,” Harry told him. “Just fuckin’ do it. After all, he already thinks you’re an idiot; what’s the worst that could happen?” 

“Harry, you’re really not helping,” Peter told him, and then he turned back to Ned. “I think you should text him tomorrow. Don’t mention the coffee thing, just, y’know, ask him if he wants to study again before your exam.” 

Ned frowned at all three of them. “Do you really think that’ll work?” he asked. 

“Sure,” Cheri said with a shrug. “I mean, you’ll never get invited up to his apartment for “coffee” again, but.”

“Ugh,” Ned groaned, sinking down onto the couch. “I’m gonna be the coffee guy. He’s gonna tell all his friends, and then they’ll be able to laugh about it in private, and then, one day, if we’re at a cocktail party or something, he’ll bring it up, and they’ll all laugh about it with me in the room, because it shouldn’t be a big deal, but it’s going to be a big deal for forever to _ me.” _

“Mm, maybe he’s right,” Cheri said, picking up another strawberry. “Maybe he needs to flee New York, change his name.”

Ned gestured to her, and Peter sighed, offering her a look. Cheri shrugged, and put the strawberry in her mouth. 

Harry groaned. “I’m going to bed,” he announced, and walked off towards the hallway. “Sorry you fucked up, Ned.”

“It was my fuck up, so,” Ned said, quietly. Harry disappeared from view, and he hung his head between his hands. “Whatever, I guess. Fuck me.”

“Nathan won’t be,” Cheri murmured, and Peter placed his hand over her mouth. 

“Maybe _ you _ should go to bed, too,” he suggested. Cheri scowled at him in response, and gestured to the strawberries that were still waiting to be eaten. “You’re being mean,” Peter told her. “Are you going to be nice?”

Cheri took his wrist in her hand and pulled his away from her mouth. “I’ll just be quiet,” she suggested, and reached for another strawberry. 

Peter turned to Ned. “I think it’ll be fine,” he said. “Text him. It’s not like you can avoid him, realistically, since you have two classes with the guy.”

“Unless I flee New York,” Ned said. 

“I know a guy who could get you down to Puerto Rico,” Cheri put in.

“I thought you weren’t talking,” Peter said, offering her a look. Cheri sighed and picked up her phone. Peter looked at Ned again. “You aren’t running away to Puerto Rico or anywhere else. You’re going to face this like the tough guy I know you are.”

_“Where?”_ Ned asked, frowning at him. 

Peter sighed. “Just text him. You like him, right?” 

“Yeah,” Ned admitted. “A lot.”

“So do something about it, then!” Peter said. 

“As if _ you _ have room to talk, Mr. I-Pined-For-Two-Years!” Ned retorted. 

Cheri looked up in surprise. “Two years?” she asked, amused. 

“Not talking,” Peter reminded her. To Ned, he said, “Text him. Tomorrow. At like, two.” 

Ned stared at him for a moment, before he mumbled something under his breath. “I’ll give it a shot,” he said, a little louder, before he stood and walked away from them, down the hall to his bedroom. 

When he was gone, Peter looked at Cheri again, brow furrowed. She glanced at him, and frowned, a strawberry halfway to her mouth. “What?” she asked. 

Peter sighed, and leaned back against the couch. 

**September 18th, 2022 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“So?” Peter queried, looking up from his textbook as Ned walked into the front room of the apartment. 

“He didn’t respond,” Ned sighed, tossing his phone down onto the coffee table. He picked up Cheri’s legs, and settled down between her and Peter on the couch, setting her legs back down so that her feet were once more in Peter’s lap. “So, that’s that, I guess.”

“Well, maybe not,” Peter said. “Maybe his phone died.”

“Really, Queens, give it a rest,” Cheri said, although she didn’t sound like she wanted to be mean. “Sorry, Ned. I’m sure another guy will come along. Or girl. Whichever.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Ned said. “I did this to myself.” He rested his chin in his hand, elbow on her leg. “I didn’t realize that coffee meant sex.” 

“Well, now you’ll know for future reference,” Cheri told him, helpfully. 

“That is one thing to come out of this,” Ned agreed. “It’s just going to be awkward, seeing him in class.” He glanced at his phone. “And he was a really good study partner, too.”

“Ah, you’re friends with everybody, you’ll find another one,” Peter said. 

“Hey, why don’t you date Harry?” Cheri suggested. 

“Ew,” Ned said, making a face. Peter merely gaped at her. 

“What?” Cheri asked. “He’s a good guy, you’re already friends -”

“Oh…” Peter began in understanding. “I know what this is. You want Ned and Harry to be a couple so we can be a happy group of friends who are all dating.” He looked at Ned. “Ignore her.”

“No!” Cheri said, hotly. “I mean it. I think Ned and Harry would make a great couple.”

“I don’t think so,” Ned said. “We’re… I mean, we’re too much alike, I think.”

“But would you ever give it a try?” Cheri prompted. 

Ned frowned to himself. “Uhm -”

“Don’t listen to her,” Peter insisted. “I - we all love Harry, but c’mon.”

“Come on _what?”_ Cheri asked. “I dated Harry.”

“Yeah, so you know,” Peter said. “It’s _ Harry. _ He’d have sex with anything on two legs!” 

“That _is_ kind of what his sexuality means,” Ned said. 

“What I mean is that I think it’d be hard for him to form any type of romantic relationship with someone,” Peter said. “It - he’s too… I don’t know how to describe it.”

“He’s a fuck boy,” Cheri said, bluntly.

“Cher!” 

“That’s basically what you’re saying!” 

“Guys, stop it,” Ned interrupted. “I’m not going to date Harry. I’m too close to him; he’s like a brother to me.”

“Mm.” Cheri sat up, putting her notebook down on the coffee table. “I guess that’s fair. That’s why I couldn’t date him.” She considered for a moment, and then sighed. “Sorry, Ned.”

“It’s all right,” Ned said. He pushed himself to his feet. “I’m just gonna accept the fact that I’ll probably never have a meaningful romantic relationship, and end up dying alone because no one was there to give me the Heimlich when I choke on my own food.”

He walked off, leaving his phone behind. Peter studied it for a moment, before sighing to himself and looking at Cheri. She blinked back, and then smiled a little.

“We weren’t too close to start dating, right?” she asked him. 

“I don’t think so,” he replied. “Do you?”

“No,” Cheri said, shaking her head. “I think it’s good we got to know one another pretty well, first.” She smirked. “And, if you knew that you wanted to date me the whole time we were just friends-”

“Oh, knock it off,” Peter said, putting his textbook on the floor and crawling across the couch to where she sat.


	41. The First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title references a thing that does not occur in the chapter itself sorry.

**September 28th, 2022 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA **

Peter blinked his eyes open, immediately searching out the digital clock on the bedside table: 7:24. All right, so he hadn’t overslept, good. In fact, he had about three hours before his first class, and he intended to make full use of them. Mostly by going back to sleep until his alarm actually rang at 8:30. 

Before he could roll back over in search of more sleep, the sheets on his bed rustled behind him. He started, and flipped over, then relaxed when he saw the top of Cheri’s head peeking out from beneath the covers. He’d almost forgotten that she’d come over last night. And that the evening had gone well. 

_ Very _ well. 

He smiled to himself, and gingerly reached over to pull the covers down, so that he could see her face. As soon as the light coming through the window of his bedroom made itself known to her, no longer obscured by the blanket, Cheri’s nose scrunched. She let a noise akin to a whine, and reached for the blanket, trying to pull it back up. 

“Good morning,” Peter said instead of allowing her to do so. 

“Gimme th’ blanket,” Cheri mumbled, still refusing to open her eyes. Her hand found his wrist, and tugged. 

He grinned, and leaned down, placing a kiss against the edge of her eyebrow. “Cheri,” he murmured, gazing down at her. “It’s morning.” 

He watched her eyes move beneath the lids for a moment, until they fluttered open. She inhaled slowly, dreamily, and then she looked at him. A small smile raised the corners of her mouth, the deep dimples she had on her cheeks appearing with it.

“Hey,” she greeted, softly. She then let out a giggle, and turned her head, partially hiding against the pillow. 

“What’re you doing?” Peter asked, amused, although he thought he could guess. 

Cheri peeked at him, eyes bright. “Last night…” she said, and trailed off meaningfully. 

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. He passed his hand through her curls, or at least tried to. His fingers caught in some tangles, and Cheri giggled again. 

“Sorry,” he said, pulling his hand free. “When do you have class?” 

Cheri sat up, eyeing the clock for a moment, before grunting and letting herself fall back down on the pillow. “Nine,” she sighed. “I have a skills test for my fuckin’ woodwinds class.” 

“Dunk,” Peter said, disheartened. He’d been looking forward to another hour in bed. Instead, he sighed, and rolled over, sitting up. “Guess we better get moving.” 

Cheri sat up again behind him, groaning a little. Peter glanced over his shoulder to watch her stretch, the blanket falling down around her waist. His cheeks grew warm, and he quickly faced forward again, huffing a little. 

He heard Cheri’s quiet laugh from behind him as she moved off the bed and wandered over to his closet. Maybe a week ago, she’d forgotten a pair of leggings at the apartment, and Peter had carefully washed them for her, before placing them in his dresser and forgetting about them. Apparently, Cheri had not forgotten. 

Peter watched as she casually pulled the leggings on, and then plucked one of his t-shirts out of the closet as well, tugging it over her head. It was long on her, because of their differences in height. Peter thought his heart would explode, seeing her in his shirt. It beat at an alarming speed within his chest. 

She glanced back at him, smiling. “Do you think I can shower, or will Ned and Harry be mad?” 

Peter looked at the clock again. As far as he knew, neither of his roommates would emerge from their rooms for another hour or so. 

“I think you’re good,” he said. 

Cheri nodded, and walked out of the bedroom, carrying a few things that she’d picked up from the floor. As soon as she was gone, Peter collapsed backwards onto his bed, hyperventilating just a little. Shit. She was wearing his shirt, and no doubt she’d end up using his body wash during her shower. Holy _ shit. _

He blinked rapidly, then forced himself to sit back up, and relax. _ Honestly, Parker, get yourself together, _ he thought, annoyed. _ It’s only Cheri. _

No, it was _ Cheri. _ He’d known Cheri for _ years, _ and now in an intimate way, a way that he honestly never thought he’d get to know _ anyone,_ aside from the two bad experiences he’d had his freshman year of college. Not just because he was a nerd, and more than a little socially awkward, but because of the Spider-Man thing. And yet, here he was, sitting on the edge of his bed while his girlfriend showered in his apartment, after they’d spent the night together. 

Holy shit. Holy _ shit. _ What if that was it? What if she decided it had sucked, and she didn’t want to get emotionally invested in a relationship, right now? What if she found out he was Spider-Man, and decided she didn’t want anything to do with him after that? What if she decided that the sex hadn’t been so great? Hadn’t it been great, though? It had been for Peter, and thinking back, he realized he’d tried to focus on her, too, during everything, but had sort of gotten sidetracked. After, Cheri had assured him it was fine, but was that a bad word? _ Fine? _

Maybe he was over thinking. She was still here, after all. If it had gone badly, or if she had realized that she didn’t want to be with him anymore, she would have left in the middle of the night, and Peter would be crying instead of having trouble breathing and thinking straight because of just how beautiful she is. She was still here. She was _ still here. _

He let out a long, slow breath. It was fine. He was fine. Things were great, fantastic. Cheri was going to come out of the shower smelling like him, wearing his shirt, and it was going to be awesome. 

As he was getting dressed himself, he heard Cheri’s cell phone ring, from her bag on the floor near his desk. He hesitated a moment before reaching for it, and pulling the phone out. He recognized the name on the caller I.D., and answered the call, lifting the phone to his ear. 

“Good morning,” he said, cheerfully. “You’ve reached Cheri’s cell. She’s kinda busy right now, but I can take a message.” 

Silence greeted him on the other end. Peter waited, his smile slowly falling into a frown. “Hello?” he prompted again. 

He heard feet running down the hall, and then Cheri was in the doorway, hair pulled up into a messy bun, half-dressed in her leggings and a bra. 

“No!” she exclaimed. 

“... Peter Parker?” a voice finally asked, from the phone, growing increasingly gleeful. “Is that you?” 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Cheri said, hurrying into the room and snatching the phone from his hand. “MeganthanksforcallingbutI’mawakenowokaybye.” She hurriedly lowered the phone, ending the call. She then let out a breath, wincing, and looked at Peter, who’d only just realized what it was he’d done. 

“Sorry?” he said, weakly. Cheri sighed. 

“It’s fine,” she said. “I’d asked Megan to call me this morning, in case I didn’t wake up with my alarm.” She shook her head to herself. “But that was before you invited me over, so I forgot all about it.” 

“I just - I answered, because I recognized her name,” Peter said, gesturing vaguely towards the phone in her hand. 

“Yeah, it’s all right,” Cheri insisted. She dropped the phone back into her bag, which he still held, and then took the bag from him completely. She smiled a little. “I just won’t be hearing the end of it for maybe a week. The last time she found out I had sex, she got me a cake that literally said “Congrats” on it. With an exclamation mark.”

She exited the bedroom again, taking the bag with her, and Peter exhaled a little, annoyed with himself. What had he been thinking? Why would he answer his girlfriend’s cell phone for her? That had just been stupid of him in the first place, and now her friend would be teasing her relentlessly about it for days. 

Shit. 

He finished getting dressed, and walked out into the main room of the apartment. Maybe he could make Cheri a bowl of cereal or something. It wouldn’t make up for him answering the call or anything, but he didn’t want her to head to ESU on an empty stomach, especially when she had a test. He could try to make eggs, but he didn’t think that would go very well. 

He stood in the kitchen, debating it for a moment, before he opened the fridge and pulled out the organic eggs that Harry insisted they buy, even though none of them ever made the things, and they usually went bad after they only used maybe one or two of them. How hard could it be to scramble eggs, after all? Pop some toast in the toaster? He could do that. 

After a few minutes, Cheri walked out into the main room as well, her hair down once more. A bandana held the curls back from her face, and she was wearing his shirt with her leggings. She lifted an eyebrow, examining the meal that he was attempting to cook. 

“You, uh, you’re making eggs?” she commented, a smile lifting the corner of her mouth. 

“Uhm, yeah,” Peter said, looking down at the mess in the pan on the stove in front of him, and then at her. “I mean, I’m trying to.”

Cheri’s smile grew. She leaned up, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” she said. She sounded genuinely touched. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“Well, I’m not going to let you go take a test without eating something,” Peter told her. “You need brain food.”

“Yeah, and eggs are pretty good brain food,” Cheri agreed with a laugh. 

“Exactly. Now, go,” he said, waving the spatula he was using in the direction of the couch in the front room. “I can’t cook if you stand here and watch me. I promise they’ll be _ eggscellent.” _

“You’re an egghead,” she replied easily, walking towards the archway leading back into the front room.

He thought he saw her snap a photo of him with her phone, but didn’t comment on it, because she did leave the kitchen and take a seat on the couch. On the counter next to the stove, the toast popped up out of the toaster. Peter lowered the heat on the eggs as he reached for the two pieces of bread.

“What do you like on your toast?” he called. 

“Just butter,” Cheri replied. “Thanks, Pete.”

_ Pete. _ The nickname gave him a warm feeling in his chest, even though she’d been using it since they’d met. He pulled the butter out of the fridge, grinning to himself, and spread it across both of the pieces, before putting them on the plates he’d pulled down from a cabinet. He then turned back to the eggs, and frowned a little, seeing that they’d burned a bit while he’d been swooning and buttering bread. Oh well, it could be worse. 

He turned the stove off completely, and served eggs onto both of the plates. Dropping the pan in the sink, along with the spatula, he grabbed two forks out of a drawer, and carried the plates into the living room. He handed one to her with a small bow, and Cheri grinned, taking it from him. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Peter asked, setting down his own plate on the coffee table and heading back towards the kitchen. “Water or orange juice?” 

“Oh, orange juice would be great,” Cheri said, watching him over the back of the couch. Peter tugged the fridge open, and glanced around inside of it for a moment. His shoulders fell. 

“No orange juice,” he said, straightening up. “Sorry. I thought for sure we had some.”

“That’s all right,” Cheri said immediately. “Some water’s just as good.”

Peter poured two glasses of filtered jug water, and returned to the living room. Cheri had finished her toast, but apparently had not touched her eggs. Peter frowned a little, seeing this. She took the cup from him, and drank some of the water. 

“Do you - I mean, are the eggs bad?” he asked. “I - they got a little burnt, but I didn’t think it was too bad.” He blanched. “Or, like, you’re not vegan, are you, because then I’ll feel really bad, because that butter was _ not _ vegan. Jesus, I should’ve asked -”

“Peter, you _ know _ that I’m not vegan,” Cheri said, smiling at him. “Stop worrying. The eggs are fine, but you’re right: they’re a little burnt.” 

Peter relaxed. He _ knew _ that she wasn’t vegan. Why was he being stupid? 

“Right,” he said. “Sorry. You don’t have to eat them, if you don’t want.” He sank down onto the couch himself, and reached for his own plate. 

“No, I want to,” she said. “Thank you for making them.”

He shoveled some into his mouth, winced as he chewed. Yeah, a _ little _ burnt. He’d just shoved a fucking cigarette butt into his mouth. He couldn’t believe that he’d actually served this stuff. 

He forced himself to swallow, and picked up the piece of toast instead. “And this is why I don’t cook,” he said under his breath. 

Cheri reached over and placed a hand on his arm. Peter glanced down at it, and then up at her. Her gaze was soft, affectionate. “It was a sweet gesture,” she said. “I appreciate it, really.” She set the plate down on the edge of the coffee table, and pulled her legs up beneath her. “But the next time one of us cooks, it’s going to be me.”

Peter eyed her as she took another drink of water. “What, you think you can do a better job than me?” he asked, teasingly. 

Cheri offered him a look that featured raised eyebrows. “I _ know _ that I can do a better job than you,” she said. “I learned how to cook in a Puerto Rican woman’s kitchen. I was not walking out of there without some type of skill.”

“Hm.” Peter poked at his eggs for a second, before admitting to himself that there was no way he was going to eat them, and set down his plate as well. He then looked at her again, watching as she scrolled through her phone. Her skin glowed in the soft light of morning that was entering the apartment. God, was she beautiful _ all the time, _ even without makeup, and straight out of a shower? She’d been beautiful when she’d just woken up, too. 

_ Fuck, _ he thought, blinking, _ I’ve fallen _ hard. 

But he already knew that. 

“Queens?” 

He focused on her again, really focused, and saw she was giving him an amused look. He cleared his throat. “Yeah?” 

“Do you want to meet up for lunch?” she asked him. “I get out of class at 12:30.”

“Oh! Uh, yeah, that sounds good,” he said. “I’ll meet you, and we can walk somewhere, if you want.” He thought for a moment, putting her schedule in order in his mind. “It’s your ed. psych class, right?”

“Yeah,” Cheri replied. “I guess we’ll decide where we want to go later.”

“Right, I don’t… want to think about food, right now,” Peter said, glancing at the eggs he’d ruined and making a face. 

Cheri laughed, and Peter’s whole day grew brighter. He suddenly didn’t mind so much that he’d completely failed at making the eggs, so long as any jokes he made about them would make her laugh. 

He’d already known it by then, but looking back later, Peter thought that was when he first truly _ realized _ that he wanted to spend the rest of his life making Cheri laugh.


	42. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Cheri have dinner with Isabel and May.

**September 30th, 2022 - Manhattan, New York. NY, USA**

Cheri’s grip on Peter’s hand was _ incredibly _ tight. “This is gonna go bad,” she murmured, not for the first time. 

Peter sighed. “It’s not,” he assured. He lifted their hands to his mouth, and kissed the back of hers. “They’re going to get along just fine.”

“What if they don’t, though?” Cheri asked, giving him a worried look. 

“They will,” he said. “If you keep thinking that they won’t, that’s when it’ll happen. You’re putting bad vibes into the universe.”

“You don’t believe in that kind of shit,” Cheri muttered, and then stiffened when a taxi pulled up along the sidewalk where they stood, outside the restaurant they’d chosen. “Fuck, here’s my mom.”

Isabel Schultz climbed from the taxi, and looked between the two of them for a moment. Cheri forced a smile. _ “Hola,” _ she greeted her mother, and then she gestured to Peter, letting go of his hand. “You remember Peter.”

“Vaguely,” Isabel responded, examining him. “Hello, Peter.”

“Ma’am,” Peter replied, a little weary, now. She did not seem to be in the best mood. From the way that Cheri was frantically trying to reclaim his hand, he could tell that he hadn’t made that up. “Uh, my aunt should be here soon. She has to come from the FEAST center, so.”

Isabel cocked an eyebrow. “She volunteers there?” she asked, and Peter shook his head. 

“Co-owns it, actually.”

“Hm.” Isabel looked at Cheri. “Perhaps we should head inside to get a table.”

“I made a reservation,” Cheri said, quietly. 

“Oh.” Isabel leaned up on her toes for a moment. “Well, Peter, what are you majoring in?” 

“Engineering,” he said. “Biomed. I actually graduate next semester.”

“Do you have a job lined up?” 

“Peter’s been an intern at Stark Industries every summer since his sophomore year of high school,” Cheri put in, helpfully. Peter smiled at her, and looked back at Isabel, only to go cold inside when he saw the expression on her face. Cheri noticed it, too, and her grip on his hand tightened further. “Uhm. It’s a paid internship,” she said, as if that would help. 

“Do you know Tony Stark personally?” Isabel queried, directing the question towards Peter, who could do nothing more than nod. Isabel’s chin lifted, almost imperceptibly. “I see.”

Another taxi pulled up, then, and May hurried out of it, throwing a twenty dollar bill in the direction of the driver. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said, breathless, as she swung the door closed and walked towards them. She hurriedly placed a kiss on Peter’s forehead, and he let her, which Cheri smiled at. May then looked at Isabel, holding out her hand. “May Parker, Peter’s aunt. It’s good to meet you.”

“Isabel,” Cheri’s mother replied, shaking her hand. “You, too.”

“Should we go inside?” Cheri suggested before a moment of awkward silence could take reign, and Peter nodded his agreement, shuffling towards the door to open it for the three of them. Isabel did not look at him as she walked through it, and May offered him a concerned glance, following her. Cheri went last, and she mouthed _ What the fuck? _ as she passed. Peter lifted his shoulders in response, completely at a loss. If Cheri didn’t understand her mother’s attitude towards Stark Industries, then he had no way of knowing, either. 

Their table was ready for them, and the host led them back to it. Peter took a seat next to Cheri, after pulling her chair out for her, and felt her reach over under the table and touch his knee reassuringly. He nudged her back as a waiter filled the water glasses that were on the tabletop.

There was mostly silence, until their orders had been placed. Once the waiter had walked away with their menus, Isabel looked at May. “Peter said that you co-own the FEAST center?” 

“I do,” May said, her eyes lighting up. “It’s a lot of work, but it’s good work. Meaningful.” 

Isabel nodded in agreement. “It’s a noble pursuit,” she said. “Do you help people find rehabilitation, too?”

“In some cases,” May replied. “We offer different resources, but mostly we’re there for when people need a place to stay, and a meal. My co-owner, Randy, he brought the idea of reopening it up to me, and I couldn’t see any reason not to. It’s non-profit.” 

“I’ve heard good things about it,” Isabel said, and May smiled a bit, looking down at her water glass. Cheri nudged Peter again, with her knee this time, and Peter reached over to squeeze it. It seemed to be going relatively okay. Maybe it’d be fine, so long as Tony didn’t come up again. 

“I wouldn’t have been able to re-open it, without Tony Stark’s advice,” May said, and Peter closed his eyes, pained. “He’s been a big help to me and Peter, since Peter got his business’s internship back in high school.”

“I heard,” Isabel said. She turned cool hazel eyes towards Peter. “How nice of him.” 

“We don’t need to talk about that,” Cheri said, softly. She looked at May, hoping to portray that they really _ shouldn’t _ talk about it through her expression. May seemed to understand, after a moment, because she looked chagrined, turning her eyes downwards again. 

“Uhm, Ms. Schultz, Cheri’s mentioned that you used to be a teacher?” Peter said, hoping the conversation shift was a smart choice. 

Isabel nodded. “It seems to be something she inherited from me,” she agreed. “My mother was a teacher for some time when I was young, too.”

“What did she teach?” May asked, looking up. 

“She was an elementary teacher,” Cheri said, piping up. She glanced gratefully in Peter’s direction. “So, she taught everything at a basic sort of level.”

“You work at Oscorp, though?” May asked Isabel, and she nodded. 

“Teaching as a profession wasn’t a high enough pay to support Cheri and I,” she explained. “Oscorp offered more money to do calculations and research, so I took it. Math is my real passion, I suppose.”

“Hm.” May tilted his head a little. “You’re still young enough to where you could teach again, once Cheri has a job of her own.”

“I’ve considered it,” Isabel agreed. “I may look for a job at the university, actually.”

Cheri looked at her mother, surprise lifting her eyebrows. “You haven’t mentioned that to me.” 

“The head of the math department is retiring at the end of the spring semester, in 2024,” Isabel explained. “They’ve been in contact with me.”

“Oh.” Cheri leaned back in her chair. “Huh. All right. That’d be cool. You’ve wanted to start teaching again for a long time.” 

“What about you, Cheri?” May asked. “Peter said that you’ll be putting your name in for student teaching placement, soon.”

“Ah, not until March,” Cheri said, and she smiled at Peter. “I think he wants me to be done with school sooner than I do.”

Peter lifted his shoulders. “I just know how excited you are to actually be able to start teaching.” 

“Yeah, he’s right,” Cheri said, turning to May again. “I do want to start teaching, really bad.”

May smiled. “Soon enough, right?” 

“Four more semesters,” Cheri replied, and she sighed. “They’re going to go by so slow.”

“No, you’ll miss them when they’re gone,” May said, lightly. She twirled her straw around. “I know I do.”

“So do I,” Isabel admitted. They shared a brief smile. “So, how did you come to raise Peter?” 

“His parents died when he was very young,” May replied. “My husband, Ben, was Peter’s father’s brother. We were the only family he had, and so we were who he came to.” She looked at Peter, eyes soft. “I wouldn’t change a thing, if given the chance. Raising Peter taught me so many things.” 

The corner of Peter’s mouth raised, and he reached over the table, taking May’s hand. He squeezed it, gently. “You’re the one who taught me, May,” he said. “I owe you so much.”

Cheri watched her mother watch this interaction. She thought that some of the neutrality left her expression, as her eyes crinkled at the corners, indicative of her soft side being affected by what she was witnessing. Cheri nudged Peter’s knee once more with her own. Things were looking just the tiniest bit better. 

Conversation continued to flow after that, jumping between more about May and Isabel, personally, before shifting back to Peter and Cheri. Isabel asked Peter about the apartment: “Cheri spends so much time there, and yet I know nothing about it,” and he told her that he helped pay the rent for it, as well as the utilities. She seemed semi-impressed. May, very graciously, did not bring up the fact that a lot of that money came from Tony. 

By the time their food came, May and Isabel had properly forgotten that Cheri and Peter were even at the table. They were fully engrossed in a conversation about some TV show that they both watched. Cheri let her head rest, very briefly, against Peter’s shoulder, a silent indication that they were surviving this thing. Peter replied by pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head, before returning his attention to his food. 

When they were all done eating, and the waiter dropped off their bill, Isabel didn’t even blink as she pulled out her wallet. May did blink, however, and she said, “Oh, no, you can’t pay for all of us. Let me cover mine.”

“And I can pay for Cheri and I,” Peter agreed, standing up slightly to retrieve his own wallet. 

Isabel shook her head. “No,” she said, and slid her debit card into the bill folder, pushing it to the edge of the table. “This dinner was my idea, so I’m paying for everyone.” 

“Then let me leave the tip, at least,” May said, after a moment, and Isabel nodded her consent. May dropped a ten dollar bill onto the table. “You’ll need to let me buy you lunch, at some point.”

“Perhaps that could be something you and I do together,” Isabel said. May glanced at her, and she lifted her shoulders. “A monthly lunch, just to chat and catch up.” She eyed Peter and Cheri. “Heaven knows these two won’t keep us in the loop.”

May looked over at Peter and Cheri, frowning a little. Peter offered her a subtle shake of his head. The last thing he needed was for May to tell Isabel that she and Peter had lunch at least once a week, so that they could talk about what was new in their lives. Knowing that Peter had a better relationship with his aunt than it appeared Cheri had with her would _ not _ improve Isabel’s attitude towards him. 

“That would be nice,” May said, catching on to Peter’s look. She turned back to Isabel, smiling. “We’ll need to plan something.”

The waiter returned with Isabel’s card, and the two women exited the restaurant ahead of Cheri and Peter. Peter took Cheri’s hand in his, and she looked up at him, frowning a little. 

“What?” she asked.

“You don’t talk to your mom about us?” he asked her, and Cheri licked her lips, glancing down. 

“Not… not really,” she admitted, quietly. “I just - I don’t know. She’s always been iffy about the guys I’ve dated, and it’s usually her response to them that leads to us breaking up. I don’t want that to happen to the two of us, so I figured if I mostly kept her out of it, I wouldn’t have to worry about that.”

“Cher, your mom’s a huge part of your life,” Peter said, carefully. “I’d think you’d want her to know about things like us.”

Cheri sighed. “We can talk about it later, okay?” 

Without waiting for his response, she walked out of the restaurant. Peter followed after a moment, doing his best to hide his concern as he hugged May, and then shook Isabel’s hand. He then stepped back, beside Cheri, while the two older women turned to one another, exchanging phone numbers. Cheri slid her hand around his arm, and Peter let out a breath, forcing his shoulders to relax. 

They saw both Isabel and May into separate taxis, before heading towards where they’d parked Cheri’s car. As she turned it on, Peter gazed out the windshield, frowning a little to himself. 

“Pete.” He lowered his gaze, and Cheri reached over, touching the back of his hand with her fingers. “It isn’t because I don’t want her knowing about us,” she said. “It - my whole life has been an open book for my mother to read, and… I don’t know, I decided that I didn’t want this chapter to be easily accessible. I’m an adult now, and I… I guess I feel like I want to be able to keep some things to myself.”

“I get that,” Peter told her, “but it - our relationship shouldn’t be a secret, or something you _ want _ to hide from her.”

Cheri gazed at him for a moment, before she looked away again, withdrawing her hand. “Maybe you’re right,” she said, resting her hands on the steering wheel. “But it… I don’t know. I don’t really think you could understand.” 

Peter did not respond, and after a moment, Cheri pulled out of the parallel parking spot, and headed for his apartment. The drive was silent. 


	43. Text Conversation From October 10th, 2022

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Occasionally, Cheri and Peter's relationship is based strongly in their text conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it was fitting to post this today, since it is actually October 10th.

**October 10th, 2022 - Text Series Retrieved from StarkPhone Mark IX**

> _ **Cher (12:01 PM): ** What are you dressing up as for Halloween? _
> 
> _ **Me (12:04 PM):** … is that something I already need to be thinking about? _
> 
> _ **Cher (12:05 PM):** Yes Queens, because how am I supposed to come up with my costume without knowing what yours is?? _
> 
> _ **Me (12:06 PM): ** I have a couple ideas for your costume, if you want to hear them.  _
> 
> _ **Cher (12:06 PM):** Yeah? Okay.  _
> 
> _ **Me (12:07 PM):** Moana.  _
> 
> _ ** Cher (12:08 PM):** Mm, no. Next. _
> 
> _ **Me (12:08 PM):** A literal angel?  _
> 
> _ **Cher (12:09 PM):** I’m more of a devil, I think. Go on.  _
> 
> _ **Me (12:09 PM):** I beg to differ but. _
> 
> _ **Me (12:09 PM):** how about you dress up as… my girlfriend? _
> 
> _ **Cher (12:10 PM):** … _
> 
> _ **Cher (12:10 PM):** That’s not a costume.  _
> 
> _ **Me (12:11 PM):** oh, right, because you ARE my girlfriend.  _
> 
> _ **Me (12:11 PM):** duh.  _
> 
> _ **Cher (12:12 PM):** I’m dating an actual clown.  _
> 
> _ **Me (12:13 PM):** Ooh, that's not a bad idea. Pennywise and Georgie from IT? _
> 
> _ **Cher (12:13 PM):** YOU WANT TO KILL ME?? _
> 
> _ **Me (12:14 PM): **No, of course not.  _
> 
> _ **Cher (12:15 PM):** Mhm. Just eat me, right?  _
> 
> _ **Me (12:17 PM):** how dare you _
> 
> _ **Cher (12:18 PM):** We’re dressing up as Buttercup and Westley from Princess Bride.  _
> 
> _ **Me (12:18 PM):** Just don’t push me down a hill.  _
> 
> _ **Cher (12:25 PM):** As you wish.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you today's date? 'Cause you're 10/10! 
> 
> I stole that joke from a TikTok.


	44. Apple Picking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Quadrivium goes apple picking. Cheri and Peter meet the petting zoo goats.

**October 21st, 2022 - Apple Ridge Orchards - 101 Jessup Rd., Warwick, NY, USA**

Cheri breathed inwards, gazing around at the wide expanse of orchard directly in front of her. Peter stepped up beside her, sliding his hand into hers. Cheri easily latched their fingers together, and pointed. “We’re going to pick all these apples,” she told him. 

“I mean, probably not all of them,” Peter said, and Cheri glanced up at him, scowling a little. 

_ “All _of them,” she insisted, and Peter relented, smiling. 

“All right, all of them,” he said. “But uh, remember that we only paid for half a bushel, so.” 

“We should only pick Red Delicious apples,” Ned said, joining the two of them, carrying the big tin bucket they’d been given in his arms. 

“That’s my screen name,” Harry put in, stepping up on Cheri’s other side. 

“What?” she asked, frowning at him, and he patted his cheeks. 

“Because of my rosy complexion.” 

“Jesus,” Ned muttered. He handed the bucket to Peter instead. “Let’s get started. I want to take the hayride more than pick apples, anyway.”

“You kidding? I’m excited to try the apple cider donuts!” Harry said. 

“We’re picking apples so that we can make our own donuts,” Cheri reminded him. 

Harry scoffed. “As if we’ll actually be doing that,” he said, and then he grabbed Ned’s hand, swinging it between the two of them, no doubt to mock Cheri and Peter. “C’mon!” 

He dragged Ned along after him towards the orchard. Cheri rolled her eyes a little, and Peter chuckled, shifting the bucket beneath his arm so that he could still hold her hand. 

“Let’s go,” he encouraged, and they headed after their friends. 

Harry and Peter were both tall enough to reach apples that hung from lower branches on the countless trees that the four of them found themselves encased in. Cheri and Ned needed to step up on the stool that they were handed before entering the orchard. Cheri handed down apples, and Peter carefully set down the good ones in the bucket, tossing away any that felt mushy or seemed to be brown. 

With all four of them picking apples, it only took maybe forty five minutes for them to fill the bucket. Ned and Harry lugged it back towards the front of the orchard, carrying it between them. Peter felt a little bad, since he would have been able to carry it on his own no problem, but Cheri had complained about her feet hurting, and so he was busying carrying her on his back, arms propped beneath her knees to support most of her weight. She clung around his neck like a monkey, pointing out trees as they walked along. 

“Are we going to do the hayride?” he prompted, hiking her up a little higher on his back as she started to slip. 

“Mm.” She sighed. “I’m pretty sure that’s a bad idea. I’m allergic to hay.”

Peter smiled affectionately. “You would be,” he said, and Cheri flicked the side of his head. He chortled. “All right. We can check out the animals instead.”

“Ooh, yes please,” Cheri said, happily. “I hope there are babies; have you ever seen a baby goat in real life? Fucking adorable.”

“I bet,” Peter agreed. The last time he’d been to a petting zoo of any kind, he’d been eight, and his Uncle Ben had fallen into a water trough after being shoved from behind by a cow. It hadn’t been very funny at the time, but after they’d gotten home, and he’d been able to change, they’d had a good laugh about it. 

Peter very much hoped that history didn’t repeat itself. He did not want to end up soaking wet for the two hour car ride home. 

They reached the farmhouse and barn again. Ned and Harry were showing off their bucketful of apples to one of the farmhands, who did not seem as enthused by the collection as they were. He merely directed them towards the large scale, where they would weigh the apples out and count out half a bushel. 

“I think they’re okay,” Peter said, and he let Cheri slip down from his back. She landed behind him, and walked to his side, putting her hand in his again. 

“Animals?” she asked, and he nodded in agreement, gesturing with his head. 

“They’re over this way,” he said, and led her in that direction. 

The animals were all hanging out in enclosed pens separate from one another. There were a number of pigs, but Cheri made a beeline straight for the goat enclosure. Peter followed after her, amused, hands in the pocket of his hoodie. He joined her at the fence. Cheri pointed.

“Look, Pete! Look!” she said, voice pitched. “It’s a _ baby.” _

It _ was _ a baby, Peter saw, toddling around on its strong legs after a bigger goat that’s coat was patterned in a similar way to its own. Cheri whimpered a little, holding tightly to the top of the fence. 

“I want to _ pet it.” _

Peter laughed. “Then pet it,” he said, and he nodded towards the gate leading into the pen. “It’s a free range petting zoo, Treble Clef.”

“Oh!” she said, and headed towards the gate. Peter joined her, making sure to latch it securely behind them. Cheri squatted, and held out her palm towards the nearest goat, which approached her, shaking its head a little. It sniffed at her hand, and Cheri beamed, looking up at Peter. 

“It likes me,” she announced. 

“I can see that,” Peter agreed, squatting down beside her. He patted the goat’s side, and was surprised by how soft it was. They must’ve been brushed recently. The goat knocked its nose lightly into Cheri’s hand, clearly having expected her to be holding food. 

“Sorry,” she apologized, dropping her hand again. “I don’t know where we get nummies from.”

Peter glanced around for a moment, and then he stood. “Be right back,” he said, and jogged off, back through the gate. Cheri returned her attention to the goat. 

“He’ll find some,” she assured.

A few minutes later, Peter returned, holding two tiny bags filled with food pellets. He was unsurprised to see Cheri had settled down directly onto the ground and was holding the baby goat in her lap. Whether or not the goat had willingly sat there was a mystery, although it seemed fairly content. Peter thought that had something to do with the fact that Cheri was humming quietly as she pet its back. Its mother sat nearby, eyes slitted. Clearly, it did not think of Cheri as a threat. 

She looked up when Peter approached, and grinned at him. “I’m an animal whisperer,” she said, quietly, and reached up a hand. Peter passed her one of the bags, and she popped it open. Almost at once, the baby goat’s head lifted, and several of the adults pushed themselves to their feet, eyes bright. 

“All right, easy,” Cheri soothed. She gingerly moved the baby off of her lap with one hand and stood as well. Peter helpfully reached over and dusted off her thighs and butt while she dumped some pellets into her hand, and held them out to the closest goat. 

“You just wanted an excuse to touch my ass,” Cheri said teasingly, keeping her eyes on the goats. 

“I don’t need an excuse,” Peter replied, and to prove it squeezed the space where his hand still rested. Cheri inhaled a little, and kicked him in the side of the leg. Peter grinned and hopped away from her. Several off the goats followed him, having noted that he was holding a baggie containing pellets, too. 

“Okay,” Peter said, and he poured some of the pellets into his own hand. A goat began munching on them immediately. Peter smiled a bit, and looked over at Cheri. One of the goats had moved up behind her, and was biting at the ends of her curls. She laughed, and moved away, but the goat followed. 

“I think she likes my shampoo,” Cheri said to Peter. 

“Can’t blame her,” he said, and refilled his palm with pellets, moving his hand towards a different goat. They were all very tame and patient, clearly having been trained not to bombard visitors all at once, as was the case at most petting zoos. It was pretty awesome. 

Cheri ran out of pellets much more quickly than he did, and she joined him, cradling the baby goat in her arms again. Its head rested on the junction of her elbow, and it blinked up at Peter with wide red eyes. Peter looked at Cheri. 

“You can’t take him home with you.”

“Ugh, how’d you guess that that’s what I was thinking?” she sighed, and set the goat back down on the ground. It toddled back over to its mother, who knocked her head into its flank. Both disappeared into the large hutch on the opposite side of the pen. 

“Because I know you,” Peter told her. His bag empty, he set it on the fence in order to brush off his hands. As he did so, he looked around at the other pens. “I feel like we neglected the other animals.”

“Eh,” Cheri said, waving her hand. “You think they don’t get attention from all the other people that come visit? No one likes goats; they think their eyes are scary, or they’re, like, followers of Satan or whatever the fuck.” She reached out and rubbed the head of a goat that was still standing nearby, clearly hoping that one or the other of them was hiding pellets, somewhere. “They’re sweet.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. He glanced up at the sky. “It’s getting late; I wonder if Ned and Harry finished with their hayride, yet.”

Cheri sighed a bit. “Guess we better go check,” she said. “And wash our hands.” She looked up at him, eyes glittering. “I really want to make out with you right now, but I’m not going to until I get some fuckin’ soap.”

Peter grinned back. “Thankfully,” he said. Cheri elbowed him. He laughed, and led the way out of the pen, Cheri saying farewell to the goats as they went.

They walked back towards the farmhouse, and Cheri said, “Maybe I’ll let Harry drive us back, so that you and I can sit in the backseat.”

“I don’t think they’ll approve,” Peter said, and Cheri shrugged. 

“It’s my car; they have to do what I say.”

The farmhand they spotted understood that they very much wanted to wash their hands, and directed them to the right place. Pretty much the instant after Peter had finished drying his hands off, he found himself with his arms full of Cheri, who gripped his shoulders tightly as she leaned up and pressed a hot kiss to his mouth. Peter let the momentum move him backwards until he hit the sink, his hands sliding down to Cheri’s waist. 

“Easy,” he advised, breathing the word against her cheek. “What’s going on?” 

Cheri met his eyes. “You’re just the best, that’s all,” she responded. 

Peter smiled a bit, and leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. “Make Harry drive,” he murmured, and Cheri nodded rapidly, leaning up to kiss him again. 

“Yo, what the fuck, guys?” They broke apart a bit at the sound of Ned’s voice, and Peter turned his head to see him standing a few feet away. He gestured. “We’ve been waiting for _ twenty minutes.” _

“Short hayride,” Peter said, pushing Cheri backwards a bit more. He kept his hands on her waist, however, and Cheri glowered over at Ned. 

“We were busy,” she told him. “You interrupted.”

“You’re making out in a nasty outdoor bathroom,” Ned retorted, crossing his arms. “This was for your sake, believe me.” He jerked his head. “Let’s get going. It’s going to be dark as hell soon, and the drive back is going to take at least two hours.”

“Guess I’m staying over,” Cheri said, looking at Peter again. He merely smirked, and draped his arm around her shoulders, leading her out of the bathroom. 

“Like I was going to let you go home,” he whispered into her ear. 

Cheri snorted in response, and Peter grinned to himself, looking back over his shoulder at Ned, who was smiling a little, too, studying the ground as he followed them towards Cheri’s car.


	45. ... You Realize You Love Them Unconditionally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A text series from November 8th, 2022.

**November 8th, 2022 - Text Series Retrieved from StarkPhone Mark IX**

> _ **Cher (11:21 PM):** this is us:  _ [ _ https://scribblewiggy.tumblr.com/post/188665621738 _ ](https://scribblewiggy.tumblr.com/post/188665621738)
> 
> ** _Me (11:22 PM): _ ** _lo_ _l you right_
> 
> _ **Cher (11:22 PM):** have we ever had a real argument? _
> 
> _ **Me (11:23 PM):** I mean no, not yet, but probably someday.  _
> 
> _ **Me (11:24 PM):** It’s kind of the four of us, tbh _
> 
> _ **Cher (11:24 PM):** yeah, true  _
> 
> _ **Me (11:25 PM):** Thanks for the meme.  _
> 
> _ **Cher {11:26 PM):** If I’m good for anything… _
> 
> _ **Me (11:26 PM):** Stop it.  _
> 
> _ **Cher (11:27 PM):** Haha. <3 _


	46. She's Find

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheri's sick, but she's also stubborn, which, predictably, is a bad combination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring t's replaced with d's because when you're congesded, you can'd fucking dalk.

**November 29th, 2022 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“Augh, would you stop _ fuckin’ _ sneezing on me?” Harry exclaimed, scooting away from Cheri to the other end of the couch. “Jesus Christ, actively dying over here, remember?” 

“Thorry,” Cheri mumbled, blowing her nose into a tissue. “My allergies have been acting up for a couple days, now.” 

“I don’t think this is allergies,” Harry told her. “You’re sick.”

“I’m nod _ sick,” _ Cheri said, folding the tissue over. “I don’d ged _ sick.” _

“Well, apparently, you _ do,” _ Harry retorted, crossing his arms. “I know it’s been a while, but everyone gets sick now and then. Except Peter; boy’s never been sick since I've known him.” Cheri responded by sneezing again, and Harry shielded himself with his arm. “God, would you go to Urgent Care or something? Get some goddamn antibiotics.”

“I don’t need antibiotics,” Cheri insisted. “I’m _ nod sick.” _

“You’re putting D’s where T’s should go,” Harry said. “You’re sick.”

The front door of the apartment opened, and Peter walked in, lugging his backpack. “Hey,” he greeted, spotting them on the couch. “What’s going on?”

“Cheri’s sick,” Harry replied. 

“I’m _ nod,” _ Cheri grumbled, and then tried again: “ _ Nod.” _

Peter frowned, setting down his bag and walking around the couch. He settled down on the coffee table, and reached out a hand, pressing the back of it to her forehead. “You’re warm,” he concluded after a moment, “and you don’t sound very good.” For emphasis, against her will, Cheri sneezed again. Peter sighed a little, and stood. “All right, let’s go.”

“Go where?” Cheri sniffled, rubbing at her nose with a new tissue. 

“To Urgent Care. We need to get you some medicine,” Peter replied. 

“I don’d wanna,” Cheri said. “I’m find.”

“When you start ending words that don’t end in the letter D with the letter D, I think that classifies as _ not fine,” _ Peter told her. “Come on.”

“I don’d wanna go,” Cheri said, crossing her arms stubbornly. “I don’d like the docdor.”

“I know you don’t,” Peter said, soothingly, “but you need medicine to get better.”

“If you can’t convince her, I don’t think she’s going,” Harry said with a sigh, flicking through different channels using the remote. “She’s already said no to me.”

“Cher, you need medicine,” Peter said. “I don’t think over-the-counter stuff is going to cut it, and if you let it stick around, it might turn into a sinus infection.”

“Led id,” Cheri stated, firmly. “I’m nod going do the docdor.”

Peter looked at Harry, who offered him a shrug in response. Peter sighed, a little, and, without asking, reached down and slid his arms beneath Cheri, lifting her off the couch. 

“Hey!” Cheri exclaimed, hoarsely. “Pud me down! I’m nod going!” 

“You’re going,” Peter told her. “Harry?”

“Yeah, I’ll drive,” Harry mumbled, switching the TV off and heading for the front door ahead of them. Peter followed, holding tightly to a thrashing Cheri as he did so. 

“This is misdreadmend!” Cheri cried. “I will file a lawsuid! You can’d dake me do the docdor againsd my will! I won’d sign any papers!” 

“Stop yelling,” Harry said with a roll of his eyes as he led the way down the stairs. At the bottom of them, he turned, and reached into the pocket on the jacket Cheri was wearing, tugging out her car keys. Cheri yelped, twisting in Peter’s grasp, but ultimately failed to free herself. Peter carried her out of the apartment building behind Harry, and across the street to where she’d parked her car. He set her down in the back seat ahead of him, and then climbed in after her, to ensure she didn’t try to leap from the moving vehicle. Harry settled in behind the wheel, and turned the car on, humming to himself. 

“Just… don’d speed,” Cheri finally mumbled, realizing that there was no escape. 

“Sure,” Harry answered, cheerfully, and he pulled away from the curb.

* * *

“So, how long have you been sick?” the technician queried, sitting behind a computer. 

“I don’d know,” Cheri muttered. “A few days.”

The technician typed that information in, and then looked at her. “Just the typical cold symptoms, I’m guessing? Sneezing, stuffy nose, all that?” 

“And a sore throad,” Cheri added, quietly. “I figured it was because I’ve been breathing with my mouth open, since I can’d breathe through my nose.”

“Right,” the technician agreed, smiling slightly. She finished typing, and then she looked at Peter, who’d gone into the examination room with them. “You the boyfriend?”

“Yep,” Peter answered. “Had to drag her here, basically. She hates the doctor.”

“Mm, she’s lucky to have you around,” the technician said, “otherwise it could have gotten worse.” 

Peter looked at Cheri, eyebrows raised, slightly. Cheri ignored him in favor of glaring at a poster on the wall that showed off various moles, and what the ones that a person should have examined looked like. 

“The doctor will be in shortly,” the technician said, standing. “He’ll probably swab your throat, and get it checked out, to make sure you don’t have something more serious than a cold. After that, he’ll prescribe you with an antibiotic that should get it cleared up in a few days.”

When Cheri did not say anything, Peter’s shoulders fell. He looked at the technician. “Thanks,” he said, and she nodded, before exiting the room, closing the door behind her. Peter turned back to Cheri. “They’re just trying to help you, you know.”

Cheri’s response was to sniff, pressing her hand to one nostril in order to try and clear the other. Peter glanced up at the ceiling, grateful for his patience. 

After a few minutes, there was a knock on the door. It opened, and a younger guy in a white coat walked through. “Hear you have a cold,” he said, addressing Cheri, who didn’t look at him. The doctor smiled, and looked at Peter. “Doesn’t care for the doctor much, does she?” he asked. 

“No,” Peter replied, glad to see that this one was apparently good-humored. It might make the examination a little less painful. “I tried to tell her that you’re here to help, but she’s stubborn.”

“Mm, and I imagine being sick doesn’t help with that,” the doctor agreed. “Well, the sooner we can work together to figure out if you just have a cold, the sooner you can get out of here. What do you say, Cheri?” 

Cheri finally looked over at them, eyes dull. “Whadever,” she said, quietly. 

“Okay,” the doctor said. He took off the stethoscope that he’d been wearing around his neck, and went to the side of the examination table. Cheri flinched, slightly, when he pressed it to her back. “Go ahead and breathe in for me, through your nose, if you can,” he said. 

Cheri did so. Peter winced, a little, hearing what the doctor could, even without a stethoscope. The doctor moved it to a different area on her back. “Again,” he said. 

After a moment, he stepped away again, putting the stethoscope back around his neck. “Definitely some blocked airways,” he concluded, “which might be indicative of the beginnings of pneumonia. It’s good that you came in when you did. Did you get a coronavirus vaccination?”

Cheri did not reply other than to nod a confirmation to his question, and he walked over to the shelves on the other side of the room, pulling out a swab test. He turned back to her, and Cheri leaned away, frowning. 

“Whad’re you gonna do with thad?” she asked. 

“I’d like to swab your throat, to get a sample,” the doctor told her. “From that, we’ll know if you have something worse than a cold.” 

Cheri looked over at Peter, who stepped up to the table, taking her hand in his. “It’s fine,” he assured her. 

The doctor approached. “I just need you to stick out your tongue, and say “Ah”,” he explained, lightly. “Ready?” 

Cheri breathed outwards, and then nodded, doing just as he’d told her to. The doctor quickly swabbed the inside of her throat, and backed away again as Cheri gagged, and then started to cough. 

“Good,” he said, putting the swab into its container. “We’ll get that tested. Should take about fifteen minutes. I’ll be back.”

“Thank you,” Peter said, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Cheri’s back. The doctor nodded, and exited the room. Peter turned back to Cheri. “You okay?” he asked her. 

“Thad sucked,” she managed after a moment. Peter smiled. 

“Yeah. I used to get strep throat, when I was little, all the time. I hated the throat swab, but the medicine they gave me was this pink stuff that tasted like bubblegum.”

“Id probably didn’d acdually work,” Cheri said. 

“Probably not,” Peter responded. “But then I got my tonsils out when I was ten, and that was it.”

“I didn’d know you had your donsils removed,” Cheri said, and Peter nodded. 

“Oh yeah. Doctor thought it was best.” He tilted his head, taking her in. “I hope you don’t have pneumonia. That would suck.”

“You’re delling me,” Cheri mumbled. “I don’d think I do. I’ve had id before.”

“Really?” She nodded. “How old were you?”

“Dwelve,” she answered. “I had do miss a week of school. Harry was pissed.” She glanced at Peter. “He dold me that you haven’d been sick since he’s med you.”

Peter shrugged, hoping it didn’t seem forced. “Guess my immune system kicks ass.” 

“Hm.” 

It was more like twenty minutes, but eventually, the doctor returned. “No signs of pneumonia,” he announced, and Peter relaxed. He could tell Cheri was relieved, too. “But you do have a pretty serious cold. I’ve set you up with a prescription that should take care of it in a couple of days.”

Cheri nodded, and Peter helped her off of the examination table. “Thanks again,” he said to the doctor, who nodded, holding the door open for them. 

“They’ll send the prescription over to whatever pharmacy you like. Just talk to them at the front desk.”

“Okay,” Peter agreed, and he led Cheri down the hall to the waiting area. Harry was still sitting in the same chair they’d left him in, looking at his phone. Peter went to the counter to take care of the prescription, and Cheri shuffled over to Harry. He glanced up at her, and smirked a little. 

“You look as bad as I do, on my worst days,” he told her. Cheri mumbled a curse in response that he probably didn’t hear. 

Peter walked back over to them. “I had it sent to the Walgreens near campus,” he said. “I’ll go get it once we’re back at the apartment.” 

Cheri clutched at his arm. “And some orange juice?” she asked, hopefully. 

Peter smiled. “And some orange juice,” he agreed, sliding his arm around her waist to help support her. She looked a little woozy, no doubt because of how heavy her head was. Peter glanced at Harry. “You driving again?”

“Well, I’m not going to let _ you _ drive,” Harry replied, standing and slipping his phone back into his pocket.


	47. Get Me Their Autographs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned kinda lets it slip about the Avengers and Peter has to explain himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've lost all control of when chapters for this one go up. Tuesdays? Thursdays? All at once? Who's to say?

**December 21st, 2022 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, USA**

“Can’t you come to Washington Heights with me?” Cheri asked, pressing her nose into Peter’s neck. He grinned, and tilted his head, dislodging her. 

“Sorry, Treble Clef,” he said, “but I don’t think it’s a good idea. Your mom doesn’t like me very much, I don’t think.”

Cheri sighed, plaintive. “I know,” she sighed. “And I don’t know why. I mean, she said that you seemed very nice, and intelligent, but… I guess there was _ something _ that she didn’t like.” She leaned up so that she could look at him, eyes sad. “I’m sorry.”

Peter poked her on the nose. “Don’t be,” he said. “It’s not your fault.”

“No, I know,” Cheri said. “I… I think it might actually be Tony Stark’s fault.” Peter raised an eyebrow, and she shrugged. “She was super ready to get to know you better, until we mentioned that you’re an intern at Stark Industries. I’m pretty sure she knew him, or at least knew _ of _ him, in college, and… I don’t know. Maybe she thinks that he’s been a bad influence on you or something.” 

“Mr. Stark’s not a bad guy,” Peter said. 

“I know,” Cheri replied, “but maybe my mom doesn’t.”

“Mm.” Cheri leaned her head on his shoulder again, and Peter hugged her, resting his own head against hers. “I guess I get it. Sort of.” He hesitated. “Maybe she needs to meet him.”

Cheri snorted. “Yeah, right. _ I _ haven’t even met him yet.” 

“That’s true,” Peter said. “Fair point.” He considered for a moment, and then exhaled a breath. “I’m going to miss you.” 

Cheri laughed. “I think we’ve established that,” she said. “It’ll probably be good for us, though, to separate for a little bit. Maybe we’ll come back together with a new appreciation for our relationship.” 

“That’s nice to think about,” Peter agreed. “And you’re probably right. We _ have _ been spending a lot of time together.” 

“It’s your fault,” Cheri determined, and Peter scoffed lightly. “It _ is. _ You’re the one with the apartment, and you kiss too good.” 

Peter scoffed again, a little bit louder. “Please,” he said. _ “You’re _ the one who kisses too good.”

“Not a chance,” Cheri replied. 

Peter adjusted their positions on his bed immediately, laying her down on the mattress and leaning over her, supporting his weight on his elbows, arms on either side of her head. Cheri smirked, looking up at him. 

“See? Look at this initiative you’re taking. You’re so good at that,” she told him. 

“The only reason I _ take _ initiative is because you prompt me to,” Peter said. Cheri shook her head, and he nodded. “It’s the truth. You think I’m smart enough to know when you want me to kiss you, without you giving me some kind of clue?” 

“Yes,” Cheri said. Peter studied her for a moment, before leaning down and pressing his lips lightly to hers. Cheri grinned through the kiss, and when he pulled back again, she said, “See? I didn’t give you anything.”

“You looked at me in _ that _ way,” Peter insisted. 

“Queens, I’m _ always _ looking at you in _ that _ way,” Cheri said, lightly. Peter let out a groan, and rested his forehead against her collar bone. Cheri giggled. “What?” 

“The things you say to me, sometimes,” he murmured into her shirt. He lifted his head again, and met her gaze. “Seriously.” 

Cheri placed a hand around the back of his neck, tugging him down to her again. Peter exhaled through his nose, sinking into the kiss, shifting slightly so that he could slide his hand into her hair, her curls coiling around his fingers. Cheri’s leg found an anchor point around his, properly locking him in place as her tongue drifted across his lower lip, which was the key to access the inside of his mouth. 

They managed to draft an entire concerto within their kiss before there was a knock on Peter’s bedroom door. Peter withdrew, as much as Cheri would let him. “Yeah?” he called, voice a bit hoarse. 

“Are you guys decent?” came Ned’s reply, and Peter looked down at Cheri for a moment. Her pupils were blown, and her mouth was red and wet. _ Decent _was probably a strong word, considering, but at least they were both dressed. 

“For the most part,” Peter said, in response to Ned’s query, and the door opened. Ned examined their position on the bed for a moment, before sighing and turning his gaze elsewhere. Peter rolled off of Cheri. “What’s up, Ned?” he asked. 

“I was just wondering when we were heading to the Compound tomorrow. Traffic going upstate is probably going to suck, so...” Ned trailed off, slowly. Peter inhaled, and glanced at Cheri, who’d sat up and was studying the ends of her curls. She looked up, however, at the mention of the Compound. 

“You’re going upstate?” she asked, and Peter closed his eyes for a moment, before turning back to Ned, who looked sufficiently horrified. 

“Oops,” he said, quietly. “I am going to… surreptitiously exit the room.” He slid out of view, and Peter heard him pick up his pace, running out the front door. Peter let out a breath, and looked at Cheri again. She was frowning at him. 

“I thought you were just going to Queens,” she said. “Why upstate?” 

“Uhm.” Peter ran a hand through his hair. “Okay. There’s a reason I didn’t tell you, I promise.” 

“What’s upstate, Pete?” Cheri asked, quietly. 

“The… uh… the Avengers Compound,” Peter answered. Cheri continued to stare at him, and he sighed a little. “Mr. Stark asked if May and I wanted to do Christmas there, which is where he lives. It’s… it’s where we had Thanksgiving, too.”

Cheri frowned. “You didn’t tell me that,” she said. 

“I know,” Peter said, fiddling with a loose thread on his comforter. “It - I don’t know, I guess I wasn’t sure what kind of questions you’d ask, about the Avengers, and whatnot.” He glanced up at her again, sheepish. “I’m sorry.”

Cheri’s shoulders raised and lowered. “Don’t be,” she said. “It - I get it. I probably wouldn’t have said anything to you, if our positions had been reversed. But… I don’t know. Obviously Mr. Stark lives at the Avengers Compound, but I guess… I guess I have to wonder why you’d go there, rather than him go to Queens.”

“It, uhm… well, it’s partly because I’m… kind of close to the other Avengers that live there, too,” Peter said. He went back to tugging on the loose thread. “I didn’t… I don’t know. I’m not good at answering questions, and there’s… there’s a lot to get into, about the whole thing.” 

Cheri reached over and covered his hand with her own. He met her gaze, unsurprised to see that her eyes were soft. “It’s okay,” she told him, earnestly. “I know you had your reasons. I can’t expect to know everything about you, and I can understand why you wouldn’t want me knowing that you know the Avengers personally.” She smiled a little, jokingly. “I’d have asked you to get me their autographs.”

Peter managed a chuckle, and Cheri squeezed his hand. “You know that you don’t have to tell me things that you think are better left unsaid,” she continued. “And, like, if one day you decide that I can be part of that aspect of your life, I’d be all for it, but… I’m okay with not knowing, until you’re ready, or you think I’m ready.”

“Both,” Peter said, quietly. “It’s… it’s partially both.” He exhaled, and smiled. “Thanks, Cher. I really appreciate this.”

“Well, you know what _ I’d _ appreciate?” Cheri queried, lifting her eyebrow. Peter’s smile strengthened into a grin, and he crawled over to her again, laying her back down on the bed, mouth against hers.


	48. Oh, What A Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years later. The truth is told, and Peter's embarrassed. Those two things aren't necessarily connected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I realize that this is already a chapter title over in 'It Gets Worse!' but I couldn't do the thing where the date when this chapter takes place is the title because it takes place over two different dates, so.

**December 27th, 2022 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

Peter rested his head on Cheri’s chest, eyes falling closed as she carded her fingers soothingly through his hair. The gentle touch was an abrupt shift from the way she’d been gripping his shoulders not three minutes before, but it was a welcome feeling all the same. It was helping to bring him back to the present, after the sensory overload he’d just experienced. He turned his head, slightly, just enough that he could inhale her scent. His mingled with it, which was kind of heady. He had to turn away again pretty quickly. 

Cheri chuckled, having noticed. “Too much?” she teased, lightly tracing her fingertips over the back of his neck. 

“Mm,” he managed in response. He shifted, listening as Cheri’s teeth clenched. He winced a little himself. “Sorry,” he apologized, moving off the bed. 

“No, don’t be,” Cheri replied, watching as he cleaned up. He returned to the bed a few minutes later, settling down beside her. Cheri tangled her legs up with his, as though to ensure that he wouldn’t get up again. He smiled a little, but did not say anything out loud. She gazed at him, eyes soft, skin glowing. She was gorgeous. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he returned, smile growing. He hadn’t seen her in several days, what with the whole holiday mess that had taken her back to Washington Heights, and him first to Queens, and then upstate to the Compound. He’d missed her. “It’s… I mean. I missed you.”

She giggled. “We talked every day, goof,” she said. 

“Yeah, I know,” he replied, running his hand over her arm, “but… it’s not the same, y’know?”

Her smile softened, and she traced her fingers over his jaw for a moment. “Yes,” she agreed, quietly. “I missed you, too.”

Peter tried to relax beside her, as her eyes drifted shut and she seemingly fell into a doze, but all he could think about was the conversation that he’d had with the others, during their D&D session the day before. They were all adamant that he needed to tell her that he was Spider-Man, or else the relationship would end badly, when she found out on her own. He didn’t - he _ trusted _ her, very much, just as he’d told them, but that did not mean he wanted to put her in danger. And he also didn't want her to worry about him, which he knew she would. 

He sighed softly, and stiffened when Cheri’s eyes opened. She looked at him, a small frown gracing her features as she took in his expression. “What’s the matter?” she asked, quietly. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, just…” He closed his eyes for a moment. He’d meant it, when he'd told the others that he liked Cheri a lot. He _ had _ liked her a lot, since he’d met her. The last thing he wanted to do was let his superhero thing pose a threat to their relationship, both romantic and otherwise. He could trust her. She deserved to know. 

He opened his eyes again, and found that she was still gazing at him, waiting. “I have something to tell you,” he admitted, and Cheri blinked. She sat up, slowly, eyes never leaving him. 

“All right,” she said, carefully. She brushed a few curls that had fallen out of the bun she had her hair up in out of her face. “What’s up?” 

Peter sat up as well. _ Just pull a Tony Stark and say it, _ his mind decided. _ She can handle it. _

_ But can _I?

He licked his lips, and reached for her hands. She let him take them, her eyes still on his. There was something in the dark brown depths of her own that reassured him, although he could not say why, or what it was. All the same, he felt some of the tension evaporate from his body, and he sucked in a quick breath. 

“I’m Spider-Man,” he said, swiftly, as though he were pulling off a band-aid. 

Cheri continued to stare at him for a moment, and Peter waited for her to say something. He didn’t know what else there was for _ him _ to say. To her credit, Cheri’s expression didn’t change, which helped to keep Peter relatively calm as he sat across from her. 

“Okay,” she finally said, speaking slowly. The contrast to his own rapid revelation was alarming. “I - I’d be lying if I said that I… didn’t have my suspicions, before now, but I’m glad you finally told me.” She smiled a little, and all of the worries that had lingered inside of Peter vanished. She gently squeezed his hands. “Thank you, for trusting me. Can you tell me more?”

More relieved than he could say, Peter jumped into a recollection of all that had occurred over the last several years, since he’d woken up one morning after a severe illness and been able to cling to walls and hear a dog barking fifteen blocks away. Cheri listened as he recounted his experience with Adrian Toomes, with the Avengers, in Germany and in space, with pretty much everything that was relevant to the secret that he’d just told her. 

“My aunt knows,” he said. “And so does Ned. Harry doesn’t, which means...”

“I can’t tell him,” Cheri said, when he didn’t, and Peter nodded, feeling terrible. Cheri must have seen it on his face, because she reached up and cradled his cheek. “Hey, it’s all right,” she said, soothingly. “If anyone knows how to keep a secret from Harry, it’s me.”

Peter relaxed again. He managed a small smile, and a nod. “And… obviously, you can’t tell anyone else, either,” he said, although he knew it was unnecessary. Cheri’s expression told him as much, and he raised him shoulders. “I’m sorry, just… I feel better, saying it aloud.”

“Pete, you can _ trust _ me,” Cheri said. 

“I know, which is why I told you. And also because I really like you and I didn’t want the secret to get between us and cause more problems than necessary.” He paused, and then said, “Which brings me to this next thing: Mr. Stark, and the others? They want to meet you, and Mr. Stark suggested that I bring you to the Compound for New Year’s. If you want to go. You don’t have to, obviously.”

Cheri, however, was smiling again. “I’d love to go,” she said. “They’re pretty significant figures in your life; it makes sense that I meet them at some point.” 

“Okay. Cool,” Peter said. 

“So… you can stick to walls,” Cheri said after a moment, “and your senses are on another level, which I kind of noticed, recently.” Peter blushed, and Cheri laughed. “What else can you do?”

“I - my body can heal itself pretty rapidly,” Peter said. “And I’m… I don’t get worn out, easily. I’m pretty fast, too, I guess. And I’m agile as hell. You can imagine what a shock it was to wake up one morning and be able to do a backflip after falling down the stairs literally twice a day because of how clumsy you were.” 

“And this is… because of radiation?” Cheri clarified, and Peter blinked, seeing the worry on her face. 

“Y-yeah,” he said, quietly. “Uh… yeah. Is - what’s the matter?” 

Cheri lifted her shoulder, glancing down at where she was resting her hand on his arm. “Just… wondering how safe this is,” she admitted. “Us. Being together. Like _ that.” _

“Oh!” Peter rapidly shook his head. “I’m not - I did tests, when I… y’know.” Cheri raised an eyebrow, and Peter’s blush darkened. "It’s safe. I’m not going to… give you cancer, or anything like that. It isn’t… transferable.” 

Cheri let out a breath, and he quickly added, "If you want me to show you, I can. I can, uh… that’s not a problem.” He rested his hand on her thigh, stroked his thumb across her skin. “I don’t want you to ever feel unsafe around me,” he said, speaking more softly, now. “I would never put you in danger, and especially not in that way, okay?” 

She glanced up, met his eyes again. She smiled a little. “Okay,” she said. “I trust you.”

Peter let out an exhalation, his shoulders relaxing. “I can still give you the test results,” he said. 

She chuckled. “If you want,” she said. “I’m not going to force you to.” She reached out, wrapping her arms around him and tugging him up the bed to where she was. Peter went willingly, leaning into the kiss that she drew him into. He grinned into it, even, and when she pulled back, he lifted his hand and brushed one of her curls behind her ear. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” he murmured.

“Don’t be,” Cheri responded gently. “I understand why you didn’t.” She smirked. “And I’m very excited to meet Mr. Stark, and everyone else.”

Peter sighed a little. “I am not looking forward to it,” he admitted. 

“Why not?” Cheri asked with a laugh. 

“Because Mr. Stark has known me since I was 15,” he said. “Do you know how many embarrassing stories he can tell? More than May, probably, because he’s _ mean.” _

“Even better,” Cheri said, grinning. 

“You’ll use everything he says against me, won’t you?” Peter asked, and the way Cheri’s eyes sparkled was all the answer he needed. “Holy shit, I’m not taking you.”

“No, Pete, please,” Cheri said, holding onto him as he started to pull away from her. “I want to go. I’ll be good, promise.”

He gazed down at her for a moment, before relenting. “I can’t say no to you,” he mumbled, and Cheri laughed, leaning up to kiss him again. 

“Wait,” she said, pushing him back slightly by his shoulders. He blinked at her, and she cocked her head. “Does this mean I can call you ‘Spidey’?” 

Well, that did it. Peter easily overcame the pressure she had on his shoulders to kiss her again. “Yes,” he said hurriedly, through it. “All the time. Please.” 

Cheri smiled, and sank deeper into the mattress, securing her arms around his back. 

**December 31st, 2022 - New Avengers Facility - Somewhere in Upstate New York, USA**

It was going well, which was how Peter knew that things were about to spiral out of control. He’d introduced Cheri to everyone as a group, and since then, the two of them had engaged in conversation with a few of the others on an individual level. Tony especially seemed to want to talk to them, which Peter should have expected. Bruce was a little less obvious about it, but he also spoke to them frequently, whenever he wasn’t helping Natasha with something in the kitchen. 

When Peter returned from the bathroom, at one point, he found that Tony had seemingly cornered Cheri into a conversation. They were both seated on the couch, and Peter supposed that if Cheri had really _ wanted _ to get away, she could have. However, as he approached, he was surprised to see that Cheri was smiling, and seemed to be enjoying the conversation that she was having with Tony, whatever the hell it could have been.

When he actually listened in, Peter understood why, and he blanched, immediately hurrying forward to end the discussion immediately. 

“The poor kid came to the Tower, absolutely devastated,” Tony was saying. “He says, “I-I didn’t _ pass.” _ And I had to remind him that he could take the test again, but he didn’t seem to get that, because he just kept going back to the fact that he’d failed!” 

“Okay, we don’t… we don’t really need to be talking about this, do we?” Peter asked, hopping nimbly over the couch and settling himself down between the two of them. 

Cheri grinned at him. “You never told me that you didn’t get your license the first time you took the test!” 

“Why did you need to know that about me?” Peter asked her. 

“Because it’s _ funny, _ Pete!” she replied. “I always make fun of you for not knowing how to drive, and it turns out that you really _ don’t _ know how to drive!” 

Tony laughed. “You let this kid drive your car?” 

“Once or twice,” Cheri said, leaning around Peter to look at him. “It never goes well. I try not to yell -”

“But she does yell,” Peter mumbled, admitting to himself that there was no breaking out of this topic. 

“- but he can’t parallel park, and he can never switch lanes on his own. I have to tell him that he’s clear.” Cheri shook her head. “It’s sad.”

“See, _ this _ is why I didn’t want to introduce her to you,” Peter said to Tony, who widened his eyes in mock offense, placing his hand on his chest. 

“You _ wound _ me, Peter,” he said. “I would never tell her anything _ too _ embarrassing!” 

“The driver’s license thing is bad enough!” Peter exclaimed. 

Cheri giggled as Tony hooked an arm around Peter’s neck. “Hey,” Tony said, and Peter looked at him, glaring just a little. Tony pointed his finger, poking it into Peter’s chest. “You know that I do this because I love you.”

“If you _ really _ loved me, you’d keep the embarrassing stuff to yourself,” Peter said, “considering I’ve only been dating her for a few months and it really isn’t time for all that.”

“You’ve known me for two years, though,” Cheri reminded him, and Tony immediately brightened, turning back to her. 

“Well, in _ that _case,” he started, and Peter groaned, sinking away from him and burying his face in his hands. 

It took a while to convince Tony to get up and get himself another drink, but eventually, his mentor seemed to decide to do so on his own accord, rising from the couch with his empty glass in hand. “You want something, Cheri?” he asked. 

“I’m not… I’m not even twenty, yet, though,” she said, blinking. 

“Ah, so what? You’re staying here tonight; who’re we gonna tell?” 

“Mr. Stark, stop trying to peer pressure my girlfriend,” Peter said, frowning a little. 

“Neither of you are _ any _ fun,” Tony declared, and he turned, walking away towards the wet bar. Peter shook his head to himself, and then looked at Cheri, who was smiling. 

“I guess you’re having a good time?” Peter said, and she nodded. 

“I’m sorry he’s telling stories,” she said, “but who else am I gonna hear them from?”

Peter sighed a little. “It’s fine,” he told her. “I can tell he’s getting a kick out of it, too, so.” He glanced around, and was surprised to see that this living room had cleared out. He couldn’t remember any of the others leaving the room at any point. “I wonder what time it is,” he commented. “Hey, FRIDAY?”

“Right now, it is currently 11:55 PM,” the AI replied. 

“Ah.” Peter looked at Cheri, saw that her smile had faded a little, and she was looking around the room. He grinned. “FRIDAY runs the Compound, basically. Artificial Intelligence.”

“Oh.” Cheri blinked a couple of times. “Did that - I mean. It probably takes a while to get used to, huh?”

“I mean, sure,” Peter said with a shrug. “Mr. Stark gave everyone the opportunity to, like, turn her off in their suites and stuff, but no one did, I don’t think. She’s very helpful.” 

“Huh.” She leaned back against the couch. “11:55. Maybe we should turn the TV on, to watch the ball drop?”

“Good idea,” Peter said, and on cue, one of the walls filled with imagery of the Time Square ball drop. Currently, the camera was panning across the vast expanse of people that had shown up to watch the drop in person. Peter shook his head to himself. “I really hope that there are no New Yorkers out there. Self-respecting ones know to stay the hell away from Times Square on New Year’s.”

“Right?” Cheri chuckled. “Plus it’s fuckin’ freezing outside.” 

They sat in silence for a couple minutes, watching the projection. Eventually, a big countdown appeared in the bottom of the screen, rolling backwards from sixty seconds. Peter glanced around again. He was surprised that Tony hadn’t gotten back from the wet bar, yet. Maybe he’d decided to get some food, too. 

Thirty seconds. Peter looked at Cheri, saw she was already watching him, an eyebrow cocked. “What?” she asked, amused. “You afraid someone’s going to walk in?” 

“Huh? No, I - no,” he said. Fifteen seconds. “I just.”

“What?” 

“Nothing.” Ten. “Uh, so.”

“Pete?”

Five.

“Hm?”

Cheri turned her body towards him, smiling. “Thanks for bringing me with you tonight.”

Peter smiled back. “You’re welcome.” 

One. 

Peter leaned forward and kissed her. Cheri hummed, cupping the back of his neck with her hand. He pulled back just enough to say, “Happy New Year, Cher.”

“Happy New Year,” she replied, and tugged him forward again, her other hand finding its way into his hair. Peter allowed the momentum of the kiss to lean her backwards against the arm of the couch. He supported his own weight by bracing one of his hands on the back of the couch, while the other drifted to her waist. He pushed up the bottom of the shirt she was wearing without meaning to, and Cheri exhaled through her nose, squeezing the back of his neck encouragingly. Peter shifted his weight a little, allowing for more to settle on top of her, the kiss deepening. 

“Oops!” 

Peter very quickly sat up, eyes wide, and found himself staring at Tony, who was grinning, but had a hand over his eyes. 

“So sorry!” he said, doing his best to hide his laughter, but failing. “I uh - I should’ve expected this, I guess. Sorry. I’ll leave you to it.” 

He stumbled from the room again, back through the archway connecting it to the hall, and Peter closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. “Shit.” 

Below him, Cheri was giggling. Peter opened his eyes again, and glanced down at her. “You think this is funny?” he demanded. 

“Yeah, kind of,” she replied, sniffling. She sat up, pushing him off of her at the same time, and coughed into her fist. “You don’t?” 

“No! I’m fucking horrified!” Peter exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “I’m never going to hear the end of this!” Cheri burst into laughter all over again, and Peter hung his head. “Why _ me?” _ he asked no one in particular. 

Cheri reached over, and tugged on his sleeve. “It’s fine,” she assured. “At least we’re in it together?” 

“Yeah, right,” Peter mumbled. 

Later on, after he’d shown Cheri to the guest quarters, Peter headed towards his own suite. He spent some time in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and getting changed, and then headed into the main room again. He was pulling back the covers on his bed when he spotted a group of small, square, foil packages on his pillow. 

Peter inhaled, and picked them up, scowling, before he angrily shoved them into the drawer of the bedside table. He pushed the drawer shut again, and sat down on the edge of the bed, scrubbing his hand through his hair, his neck and ears hot with a blush of embarrassment. 

_ Fucking shit, _ he thought, shaking his head, and he scooted under the blankets, huffing a little to himself. 


	49. Flamingo Physicality & The Cost of a Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has some news to share. Cheri retaliates in kind.

**January 21st, 2023 - Text Series Retrieved from StarkPhone Mark IX**

_ **Me (2:31 AM):** Did you know that a flamingo bends their leg at the ANKLE, and not the knee?? _

_ **Cher (2:33 AM):** what? _

_ **Me (2:33 AM):** FLAMINGOES. BEND THEIR ANKLES. _

_ **Me (2:34 AM):** THEIR KNEES ARE HIGHER UP. _

_ **Cher (2:35 AM):** babe i don’t know if you know this but i really don’t give a shit _

_ **Me (2:36 AM):** It’s their ANKLE CHERI _

_ **Me (2:36 AM):** THEIR ANKLE _

_ **Cher (2:37 AM):** i’m going back to bed_

* * *

**February 4th, 2023 - Text Series Retrieved from StarkPhone Mark IX**

_ **Cher (3:21 AM):** A HUMAN HEART COSTS LIKE A MILLION DOLLARS _

_ **Cher (3:21 AM):** AND I GAVE YOU MINE FOR FREE _

_ **Cher (3:22 AM):** YOU UNGRATEFUL WORK OF ART CARVED BY MICHELANGELO HIMSELF _

_ **Me (3:24 AM):** cher it’s three am _

_ **Me (3:24 AM):** pls for the love of god get off the internet  _

** _Cher (3:25 AM): _ ** _just getting back at u bb <3_

**_Me (3:26 AM):_ ** _i guess that's fair <3_


	50. Ámame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Spanish lesson reveals more than Peter's knowledge.

**February 19th, 2023 - 71 2nd Ave., Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“Teach me some more,” Peter said, leaning eagerly towards Cheri. They sat together on the couch in the front room, facing one another. Cheri was currently in the process of translating a Spanish lyrical piece into English for one of her classes. She smiled at him. 

“Really?”

“Yes,” he replied at once, sitting up straight again. 

“Okay,” she said, and she thought about it for a moment. “Uh…  _ lápiz.” _

“Pencil,” he said promptly. 

_ “Llaves.” _

“Keys.”

_ “Mochila.” _

“Backpack.” 

Cheri cocked an eyebrow, smirking. “You sure?”

“I’m… sure,” Peter said, but he wasn’t, actually, not anymore. 

Cheri, however, chuckled and looked down at her work again. “Three out of three,” she told him. “Good job.”

Peter grinned, and bounced up and down a little. “More,” he said. 

Cheri thought about it for a moment.  _ “Araña.” _

Peter’s smile faded, and his brows furrowed. He leaned back a little, frowning to himself. Cheri waited, smiling slightly. After a moment, he sighed, and glanced at her. 

“That’s too hard.”

She laughed. “Spider,” she told him. 

“Oh.” Now he felt dumb. “Duh.”

“Goof,” she responded, amused, and filled in a few more words. 

“Another one?” Peter prompted. 

_ “Háblame.” _

“Ooh, a  _ phrase,” _ he said, and she snorted quietly. “Okay.  _ Hablar _ is to talk, so… talk to me?” 

“Good.”

“Yes, I’m kicking ass,” Peter said. Cheri chuckled, and wrote down the last bit of lyrics, before she scanned the page and nodded to herself. She slid it into her binder, and set that on the coffee table, before looking at him. Peter watched her, hopefully, and she smiled again. 

_ “Hermoso.” _

“Handsome,” Peter said, lifting his chin a little. “That’s me, thanks.”

Cheri’s smile softened as she studied him for a moment. Her heart was thudding.  _ “Ámame,”  _ she said, quietly, and Peter blinked a few times. 

“Love me,” he finally said, his own voice lowered, and Cheri reached for his hand. He let her take it. 

“I think I do.”

She heard Peter’s intake of breath, and very carefully did not look at him. After a long moment, she felt his hand squeeze hers, gently, and she chanced a glance upwards. He was smiling, eyes soft with affection. 

“I think I love you, too,” he said. “Actually… scratch that. I  _ know _ I do.” Cheri let out a breath, and a smile lifted the corner of her mouth as well. Peter tugged on her hand, and she scooted across the couch, adjusting until she could lean against him. Peter spread his legs out on either side of her, arms wrapped around her, and she closed her eyes, feeling his chest rise and fall behind her as he breathed. 

“I was going to say it first,” he said after a moment. “I just… I couldn’t find the right time.”

“I don’t think that matters so much,” Cheri murmured. 

“No, I’m - I realized that, just now,” he agreed. He let out a sigh, and she felt him press his face against the top of her head. “Okay. I think this means that you’re braver than me.”

“No,” Cheri said, smiling a little to herself. “I just got tired of  _ not _ saying it.”

She heard him laugh, once. “That’s fair,” he said. “Do you - I mean. This is probably a stupid question.”

“Ask it anyway,” Cheri suggested. 

“How… how long have you wanted to say it?” 

She considered it. To be honest, she probably couldn’t put a date on it. That was, until she thought about it a little more, and realized that, yes, she  _ could _ put a date on it, at least, a date on when she’d known she loved him, but did she really want to tell him? It was a little embarrassing.

“Unless you’d rather not say,” Peter told her, sensing her hesitation. “Obviously. I was just curious.”

“I don’t know how long I’ve wanted to say it,” Cheri said, “but… I think I’ve known I loved you since that night on the roof, with Venus and the pretzels. When you gave me your jacket _ .” _

Peter did not say anything for a very long time after that. Granted, it was probably more like five seconds, but to Cheri, it felt like an eternity. She wondered if maybe she shouldn’t have told him, and decided that if he thought it was weird, then maybe this was a bad idea at all. The concept of them. 

“Oh,” he finally said, and Cheri closed her eyes. “I - uh. That’s - wow.” He let out a small sound that might have been another laugh. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Dumb, right?” she asked, sighing, and his grip around her tightened, slightly. 

“No, not dumb,” he said. “I - I just didn’t think you liked me that way, that early on.” He hesitated a moment, and then said, “I’m pretty sure I loved you from the moment you smiled at me. For real, not because you were pretending to be, like, narcissism walking.” 

Cheri giggled. “The first time we met?” she asked. “Really?”

“Well, it was  _ something, _ anyway,” he said, sounding a little defensive. “I knew I wanted you around.” Another pause. “Okay. I - I realized it was love a little bit later than that.” 

“When?” 

“That night, when you were over running lines and you left ‘cause you had a date.”

Cheri frowned to herself, trying to recall the memory. It came to her after a moment. “The night of the car accident.”

“Yeah.” She toyed with a few of the hairs on his arm, waiting for more. “I, uh - it… my senses thing kind of… clued me in.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I can only sense danger when it comes to me, or someone that I’m super attached to,” Peter explained. “Since you were, like,  _ right there, _ when the accident happened, I knew it was coming before it did, and that indicated that I felt something for you, and that something was… love, I think. I sense danger around May, and Ned, and Mr. Stark, too. But it - it was different, with you. For the others, it’s only when there’s  _ for sure _ something bad about to happen to them. For you, it was just… it was even the  _ notion _ that you might be hurt, and everything inside of me was like, “Dude, the girl you’re in love with might be involved in a car accident,” and I - I knew. I knew for sure when I realized that you  _ weren’t  _ in the accident.” 

Cheri did not speak, and after a moment, Peter said, “Well, okay,  _ I _ didn’t know, Ned kind of had to beat me over the head with the facts for me to realize it, but.”

Cheri chuckled again. “Pretty obtuse of you,” she commented.

“Yeah, well, at that point I was trying to convince myself that I didn’t like you in that way at all, that we were better as friends.” Cheri turned her head until she could sort of see him, an eyebrow raised, and he spluttered. “Don’t look at me like that! You were, like, young, and it seemed like you were just glad to have me as a friend. I figured you wanted to, like, experience stuff, rather than tie yourself to me.”

Cheri sighed a little. “I get it,” she said. “And maybe it worked out better that it took a while, since we were able to, y’know, really get to know one another first.” She smiled a bit. “Sort of like Chandler and Monica.”

“We were better friends than Chandler and Monica,” Peter argued, and Cheri laughed. 

“You’re right. But you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do,” Peter agreed. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and Cheri turned forward again. 

“Hey,” she said after a moment of silence. 

“What?” Peter asked, but she could hear his smile, and she knew he already had an idea of what she was going to say. 

Still, she said it anyway, because she could: “I love you.”

“I love you too, Treble Clef,” Peter said, hugging her closer to his chest. Cheri grinned to herself, and closed her eyes. If she could stay like this forever, she’d be happy. 


	51. "Yeah, this is the one."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Harry embark on an early morning mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a side chapter that directly correlates to Better All The Time. Literally, it happens between chapters 72 and 73.

**January 26th, 2024 - 5th Ave.,Manhattan, New York, NY, USA**

“I can’t believe this is happening!” Harry said, hopping up and down a little bit. 

“Dude, relax,” Peter said, shaking his head. “I’m only buying the ring. I can’t ask her until after she graduates.”

“Yeah, no, I know, but the fact that you’re buying a ring means that it’s going to happen, and I can’t believe it!” Harry responded. “Thanks for asking me to come, by the way.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Peter said. “I figured I could use your help. I asked Megan to meet us, too.”

Harry stilled, at last, and slowly turned to look at him. “You asked _ Megan _ to meet us?” he demanded, and Peter frowned. “Cheri’s _ best friend _ Megan?” 

“Yeah?” Peter said, carefully, clearly confused. “What’s - I thought that her opinion could be useful, too. She knows what Cheri likes.” He paused, and then realization finally settled over his features. “Oh, I see. You think she’s going to _ tell _ Cheri.”

“That’s _ exactly _what I think!” Harry exclaimed. A passerby looked at him, stunned, before quickening their pace and hurrying down the sidewalk away from them. Harry gestured frantically. “Why would you bring Megan?”

“Because I want her help,” Peter answered. “Besides, she won’t say anything to Cheri. She’s a romantic, and she’ll be much more into the idea of a surprise proposal.” Peter reached up and rubbed at the back of his head. “Not that I have any idea what that proposal’s even going to be, but -”

“Hey, boys!” They both turned at the sound of Megan’s voice. She’d pulled into a parallel parking spot, a little haphazardly, and was shoving coins into the parking meter. She waved at them, and Harry gave her a quick wave back, before he turned to Peter again. 

“This is _ not _ a good idea!” 

“She isn’t going to tell Cheri anything,” Peter replied. 

Harry shook his head. “Man, you’re going to be so disappointed when you pull that ring out whenever you decide to actually propose, and Cheri isn’t shocked at all. I can’t wait to catch that moment on camera, your look of distress and sadness. I could sell it to one of those advertisements for, like, hemorrhoid cream.”

“You’re gross,” Peter said, and he walked away towards where Megan was finally putting the last of the coins she needed into the meter. Harry followed behind him, huffing a little under his breath. “Hey, Meg,” Peter said. “Thanks for meeting us. I know it’s early.”

“No worries,” Megan said cheerfully, straightening the strap of her purse. She clapped her hands together. “Look at you, already glowing with proposal happiness.”

“Yeah, but I’m not - I don’t have any plans to actually propose until after Cheri graduates, remember,” Peter told her. 

“No, no, totally got that, cool cool cool,” Megan replied at once. “But, still, this is so exciting!” She clapped her hands together, and then gestured. “So, fuckin’ Fifth Avenue, huh? Plan on spending a lot, do ya?” 

“Well, actually -”

“Because, lemme be the first to tell ya, Petey, Cheri’s not the biggest fan of overly-priced anything,” Megan continued. “Her necklace is, like, the only thing worth more than twenty-five dollars that she wears on the reg. Aside from, like, bras, because _ fuck _ are those expensive.” 

Harry and Peter exchanged a glance as Megan turned around to admire all the stores around them. Harry had an expression of pain on his face, and Peter rolled his eyes, turning away again. Sure, Megan was… hyper, but that was fine. He could probably use that sort of energy, since Harry was probably going to be a downer, now that he knew he wasn’t the only help that Peter had enlisted. 

“No, I know that she’s not a fan,” he said to Megan, who turned to face him again. “I just figured this was a good place to start, since literally every store known to man is here.” 

“Right, good call,” Megan said, nodding along. “All right, so, what’s the plan?” 

“Plan for what?” Peter asked.

“The ring, duh!” Megan said, spreading her hands. “I mean, do you have an idea of what you’re looking for? Cut? Band? _ Size? _ Jeez, Peter, please tell me you know what size ring Cheri wears, if nothing else.”

“She’s a seven, yeah,” Peter said, butting in. He smiled a bit to himself. “I remember when she told me, because I was watching her play the piano one day, and I asked her if she’d ever wear rings, and she said, “Maybe one, someday,” and then she said that she was a size seven. Probably as a hint that she wanted _ me _to give her that ring she was talking about, but obviously I didn’t get that at the time.” He paused, glanced between the two of them, and then finished, “I get it now, though.”

“When did this happen?” Harry asked him. 

“A few months ago?” 

“Right, cool,” Harry said. It was his turn to roll his eyes. 

“Anyway,” Peter continued, quickly, “I know what size ring, and I know that I don’t want to get her a diamond, because that’s boring and I want to do something… y’know, different. Because I feel like she’d appreciate that more.”

Megan smiled. “You are absolutely right,” she said. “You two are the greatest. I’m so glad this is happening for you.” Peter shrugged a little, smiling a bit himself, and then she snapped her fingers. “You know what? We shouldn’t be here. I have the perfect place.”

“You do?” Harry asked, frowning, and Megan nodded. 

“Yes.” She turned back towards her car. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before now, I could have saved _ so much change!” _ She shook her head in frustration, and then waved her hand. “Come on, guys, let’s go.”

Harry looked at Peter. “Are you -?”

“Yeah, she said she has an idea,” Peter replied. “She’s known Cheri for years.”

“Dude, she’s literally known her for the same amount of time that _ you _ have,” Harry reminded him, but Peter was already walking towards Megan’s car as well, climbing into the passenger seat. Harry’s shoulders fell, and he followed Peter’s lead, sinking into the backseat with a sigh. So much for being the person in this trifecta who’d known Cheri since she was a literal child. 

Megan drove them away from Fifth Ave., and then out of Manhattan altogether. Harry frowned to himself as they passed into Brooklyn, and he could see Peter fidgeting. “Brooklyn?” he asked at last. 

“Yeah, the store I’m thinking of only has one location, and it’s in Brooklyn,” Megan replied. “They’ll have something for Cheri, no doubt about it.”

Peter nodded amicably. “All right, I trust you,” he said. He looked over his shoulder to Harry. “What do you think?” 

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “Maybe I’ll be more help when we’re actually looking at rings.”

Eventually, Megan pulled up in front of a pretty dingy looking store, parking in front of it. Peter’s first cause for alarm came from the fact that the parking meter for the spot that Megan had parked in was missing, which implied that someone had stolen it, or someone had run into it with their car. And then most likely stolen it. 

“Are you sure this is going to work out?” he asked, studying the storefront. The place didn’t even had a name. Not one that he could see, at any rate. 

“Yeah, dude,” Megan answered, slipping her seat belt off. “Place is chock full of fancy old things. Cheri’ll love something like that.”

Peter, once again, glanced back at Harry, who lifted his eyebrows in an _ I told you so _ sort of way. Peter exhaled. “Well,” he said, “I guess we can give it a shot.”

“Yes, good attitude,” Megan said, pointing at him. “You will not regret it.”

The inside of the shop was just as dingy as the outside. As soon as he stepped through the door, Harry started to sneeze. “God,” he muttered, pulling a tissue out of his pocket. “Do they not know how to dust?” He sneezed twice more. 

“It isn’t even that bad,” Megan said, but her own nose was twitching. She gestured grandly with her arms. “And besides, look at all this cool old junk!” 

Peter was staring at a glass display case that was full of deformed Beanie Babies. “Yeah,” he said, slowly. “Cool.”

Megan walked deeper into the store, waving her hand for them to follow. Peter turned away from the display case and towards Harry. “I’m not so sure about this,” he said. 

“It’s really dusty,” Harry said, sniffling. He sneezed. “Gah, I hate it in here. Let’s ditch the redhead and go.”

“Do you even know where we _ are?” _ Peter asked him, and Harry shrugged. “Exactly. I don’t want to catch a cab in this neighborhood.”

“You’re fucking _ Spider-Man,” _ Harry said, gaping, and Peter made a face. 

“This is Brooklyn.”

“Jesus,” Harry sighed. “Let’s just see what she thinks might work, and then you can say that you’re not so sure, and we’ll leave.” 

“Right, okay,” Peter agreed. He walked further into the shop, Harry following behind him. 

They found Megan standing at a counter in the middle of the building, peering through the glass top. She turned to them, grinning. “Look at all these,” she said, gesturing. “All kinds of fun rings to pick from.”

Peter stepped up to the counter as well, examining the jewelry. The fact that no shop employee had approached them yet was giving him the creeps. Still, he did his best to pretend to give the rings that Megan had pointed out a solid once-over before he made a clicking noise with his tongue. 

“Dunno, Meg,” he said, looking at her. “I don’t really see Cheri wearing any of these.”

“Peter.” He glanced over his shoulder when Harry said his name, and saw that his friend had moved over to a different display case. He was peering into it, but he waved his hand, gesturing Peter over. Both he and Megan moved to join Harry, who pointed. “Look at that one.”

Peter followed his finger, and raised his eyebrows when he saw the ring that Harry had found. It was pretty simple, a plain silver band, but the main gem wasn’t a diamond. Instead, it was green, and Peter recognized it at once. 

“Isn’t that -?”

“The birthstone for August, yeah,” Peter said in response to Harry’s half-question. “We started dating in August.”

“Aw, that’s the _ cutest _ idea I’ve ever heard!” Megan exclaimed. She tousled Harry’s hair. “You’re so adorable!” 

Harry reached up to brush his hair down, muttering under his breath. Peter continued to gaze at the ring. The peridot was cut into a circular shape, and had two smaller diamonds on either side of it. It was simple, but elegant, and definitely meaningful. Cheri would love it. 

“I want to… see that,” he decided, turning to look at Megan. Instead, he found himself looking down, towards a little old lady who’d finally come out of whatever recesses this store had to offer to assist her customers. She smiled up at him; she was missing several of her teeth. 

“Lovely,” she said, and she scooted past him to the display case, unlocking it with a key on a ring that had about eighty similar keys on it. She plucked the ring gently from the case, and held it up to him. Peter took it carefully from her, and held it up. Although there wasn’t much light in the shop, the small bulb hanging overhead allowed enough that it reflected off of the stones. Holding it, Peter simply knew that this was the ring he wanted to propose with, whenever the right time came. 

He smiled to himself. “Yeah,” he said, “this is the one.”

“Aha!” Megan said. “I knew you’d find it here!” 

Harry rolled his eyes a little. “Yeah, but _ I _ found it,” he said, voice low. 

“Thank you,” Peter said to him. Harry glanced at him, and Peter nodded, still smiling. “Really. It’s perfect.”

Harry broke. A smile of his own lifted the corner of his mouth, and he shrugged one shoulder. “It was nothing,” he said. 

“Mel, maybe you could tell us something about it?” Megan prompted as they moved to a very outdated cash register so that Peter could check out. 

“Ring very precious,” the old woman said. “Brought to me by immigrant from Puerto Rico. Exchanged for money to feed his family, on first night in New York.” 

Peter blinked in surprise. “Really?” The old woman nodded, and Peter glanced at Harry, who looked a bit suspicious. “Do… do you know what the man’s name was?” he asked the old woman. 

“No,” she said, regretfully. “Respect customer privacy.” 

“Right,” Peter agreed, his shoulders falling. “How much?”

“For you? One hundred fifty.”

Peter laughed. “For the perfect ring? Sounds good to me.” He pulled out his wallet, and the money that he’d taken out earlier that morning in preparation for this. He slid the old woman three fifties. She accepted them, and then passed him the velvet box that she’d put the ring inside of. He cradled it in his hand, inhaling. He’d found it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! If you're here, I imagine it's because you've been reading the entirety of the "It Gets Worse! Universe", and as such, I'd like your opinion on the matter displayed in the Google Form linked below. Thank you.   
<https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScvQ-zMlAdF-Bd7GuaQxtri2O_9RRNjBvrBDUmprgZIcaVnyQ/viewform?usp=sf_link>


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